Something Better
by Kate Rosen
Summary: Brenda has gone through many changes recently with the death of her mother and leaving her job at the LAPD. Just when she feels like her life is getting back on track, the unexpected happens. How will she and Fritz cope?
1. Chapter 1

Hello, my friends. This story has been bouncing around in my head since October, and I finally feel like I'm at the point where I can start publishing. I'm nowhere near finished, but I'm hoping to be able to update regularly. This is going to be a long one.

I cannot begin to thank Labyrinth, who has been a invaluable source of ideas, advice, and encouragement, as well as an awesome editor. I am in debt to you, oh Queen of Britz Fanficdom.

The story begins at the end, with a happily ever after. Remember that as you read on. They will get there again. It will just take some time.

Feedback is appreciated. I would love to know what you think.

**"Something Better"**

_You're so great at imagining the worst. It's part of why you're good at your job. But try, just for a minute, imagining something better…_

**Prologue**

Driving west on the 101 and watching the Los Angeles city limits fade in her rear-view mirror, Brenda Leigh Johnson felt a sense of peace wash over her. Never in a million years would she have believed she'd become a commuter, but after four years she had come to appreciate some of the perks it offered. For one thing, it was a chance to decompress after a stressful day, as today had been. During her forty minute drive, she could listen to any type of music she wanted, as loud as she wanted, and no one was there to laugh at the way she sang along. Being a southern girl born and bred, she had a soft spot in her heart for country music, although she did appreciate some of the contemporary pop and rock as well. Today she was rocking out to Pink's newest album.

As she exited the freeway and turned onto her street, another perk of commuting came into view: her beautiful home. Pulling into the driveway, she thought about how long she had fought Fritz on the issue of buying a house and how foolish she had been. Now she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

Their home was a modest two-story dwelling with three bedrooms, two and a half baths, and a small fenced-in yard, but to Brenda and Fritz it was perfection.

The first one to welcome Brenda when she walked through the door was her loyal buddy Joel. He didn't move quite as fast as he once did, but he never failed to run and greet her when she arrived home.

"Well, Hello, my fluffy-wuffy Joely…" She dropped her bag on the counter and lifted him up for a kiss and snuggle. "Where's Daddy, huh? Fritzy?"

"In here!"

"Fritzy, you wouldn't believe the day I h—" She stopped short and had to hold a hand over her mouth to keep from chuckling when she finally laid her eyes on Fritz. Sitting at a small table holding a teacup, Fritz wore a pink feather boa and one of Brenda's sun hats. Two of the other seats were occupied with stuffed bears. "My, my, Fritzy, don't you look stunnin'" she declared, setting Joel down and trying her hardest not to burst out laughing.

"Pardon me," he replied, "but the name is Lady Sunflower."

That did it for Brenda. Not being able to hold back any longer, she started to laugh uncontrollably. Collapsing onto the chair beside him, she fought to catch her breath. Fritz remained deadpan with his pinky in the air, until Brenda leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You are such a good sport," she said with a smile. "Where is the lovely hostess?"

"You mean Princess Sophia? I believe Her Royal Highness is upstairs powdering her nose," he said in a mocked British accent. After a pause, he added in his regular voice, "She's been in there for awhile actually. I was just about to check on her."

"Let me," Brenda smiled as she made her way to the stairs. She softly knocked on the bathroom door and called, "Oh, Princess. Your guests are waitin' and the tea is gettin' cold. Honey?" Brenda twisted the knob and couldn't believe the scene that was waiting for her on the other side. "Sophie Rae Howard, what on earth are you doin'?" Her four-year-old daughter was perched on a step-stool at the bathroom mirror holding one of Brenda's lipsticks and failing miserably at attempting to apply it in a straight line.

"Mama, I just wanna be pretty like a princess. Like you!" Her big brown eyes widened and began to fill with tears.

Just then, Fritz arrived at the door to see what had made Brenda raise her voice, but he ducked quickly out of sight when he heard his daughter's reply. _I think I'll let Brenda handle this one_, he thought as he quietly backed up and made his way back downstairs to start dinner.

"Aww, Sweetheart…" Brenda stooped down and stroked her daughter's cheek, catching a falling tear. "You are a beautiful little girl. You don't need any of this." She gestured toward the lipstick, gently took it from Sophie's hand, and replaced the cap. She only cringed slightly when she realized it was her favorite shade of "reddish brown." After returning it to the drawer, she tenderly washed her daughter's mouth with a washrag. "You're pretty just the way you are," Brenda said with a smile.

"But, Mama, you pretty too! Why you wear it?" she asked sincerely.

Oh dear, thought Brenda. How do I explain this? "Well, honey," she began as she wiped down the counter and straightened up the rest of her makeup, "It's just one of those grown-up things."

"You mean like bras and high heels?" Sophie dramatically whispered with her hand cupping the side of her mouth. "Like that?"

Brenda bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Yes, exactly. And all those grown-up things are just a pain in the neck to wear anyway." She turned back to face her daughter. "You don't need any of that. All you need to do is be Sophie Rae, and play, and laugh, and have fun bein' a little girl." Brenda straightened her daughter's plastic tiara, and smoothed down her soft brown curls. "There'll be time for all that later. Okay?"

"Okay, Mama. I love you!" Sophie almost knocked Brenda over with her fierce hug.

"Oh!" Brenda caught herself and smiled. "I love you, too, Baby. Now, shall we see what Daddy is makin' us for supper?"

"Yes! I hope it's somethin' yummy like chicken nuggets!" She started toward the door, and then paused. Her tone was serious as she asked, "Mama?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"If I eat all my dinner, can we have Ho-Ho's for dessert?"

"Of course."

Smiling from ear to ear, Sophie quickly ran downstairs to check in with her daddy.

"That's my girl," Brenda said with a grin.

* * *

"…And they all lived happily ever after."

Fritz closed the storybook and peered over at his daughter lying beside him. Her eyes were closed, but he wasn't sure if she was asleep yet. He slowly sat up and straightened the covers around her. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, "Good night, Princess. I love you."

"Love too, Daddy..." she mumbled.

As he made his way to the door, he spotted Brenda standing there spying. Fritz put his arms around her and they just stood together for a moment, watching their daughter sleep.

"I know every parent says this, but I really think that we have possibly the most beautiful, perfect child there ever was," Brenda said as she leaned her head on Fritz's shoulder.

"I think you're right. I don't know why we waited so long to have her."

"I think you just needed a little convincin'" Brenda said with a smirk.

"Me?" Fritz pointed to himself with a look of shock on his face. "That's not how I remember it…"

**Chapter 1**

"Daddy, I know this is hard, but you can't hang on to Mama's clothes forever. She would want them to go to someone who could use them."

Brenda was tired of having the same argument with her father. She had been staying with him for almost three weeks, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to part with anything that belonged to her mother. Although she couldn't imagine the pain that he was going through, she was becoming frustrated and didn't know how to help him. She was heartbroken too, but it helped to keep busy, so that's what she tried to do. Luckily, today she had called in reinforcements and wouldn't have to do it all by herself.

"I know it, Brenda Leigh. I just can't do it. Why don't y'all just go through them without me? I'm sure you'll know what's best."

Brenda turned to her sister-in-law Amy and her niece Charlie, who both nodded. "All right, Daddy. Why don't you go downstairs and put the game on? I'm sure Bobby will watch it with you as soon as he gets back from picking up the boys from practice."

Clay hung his head and nodded as he headed for the stairs.

"Do you think he's getting any better?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know, honey," Brenda answered. "I just don't know. All we can do is be here for him, and takin' care of Grandma's things here will help him out a lot."

"Ok, Aunt Brenda. Where do we start?"

* * *

"Good night, y'all. Thanks for your help."

Brenda waved to her family as they drove away in various vehicles. All alone with her father once more, she dreaded going back to the house. He was just so sad, especially in the evenings. She wished Fritz were here to lean on. He would know what to do, what to say.

She found Clay in the kitchen finishing up the dishes from dinner.

"Mind if I dry?" she asked.

"Nope. Go right ahead."

They worked in silence for a few moments. Brenda had grown tired of attempting to converse with her father. The thought of bringing up the subject of her mother again exhausted her, as did the idea of attempting small-talk.

In her head, she mapped out the next day. They were planning on meeting with Clay Jr. to straighten up a few financial things, and then Brenda thought they'd go grocery shopping. Her Mama had always done that, and her father would be perfectly happy to subsist on iced tea, oatmeal, and bologna sandwiches if she didn't keep a variety of foods in the house. She wondered if Fritz would call her this evening. He did most nights, as long as he wasn't held up at work with a big case…

Brenda was so deep in thought that her father's voice startled her, and she almost dropped the glass she was drying.

"What was that, Daddy?"

"I said, 'thank you,' Brenda Leigh. Thank you for coming out here and stayin' with me. You've been such a big help. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh, Daddy!" Brenda embraced her father in a fierce hug. "It's nothin'. Really. I'll stay as long as you need. You've done so much for me all these years. It's the least I can do." She pulled away to look into his eyes. "Now, how are you doin'? I mean really, Daddy? We're all so worried about you."  
Clay took a deep breath. "I'll be all right, Darlin'. Of course, I'll always miss your mother, but I still have so much. I've got you, your brothers, my grandkids…"

"Of course, Daddy. We all love you so much." Brenda's phone started to ring, but her focus was on her father.

"I love you, too. Now, go answer your little phone and talk to your husband. I'm gonna get ready for bed." He kissed her cheek and started toward the stairs.

"Night, Daddy." Brenda called after him. Then she put her phone to her ear. "Hey," she breathed.

"Hey, Honey. How's it going today?"

Brenda sighed as she took a seat on the couch. "Oh, all right, I guess. We got a lot done. Amy, Charlie, and I went through Mama's clothes and took them to the Salvation Army, so that's done. And, I think Daddy's doin' a little better. I don't know. It's so hard to tell. How was your day?"

"Not too bad. Things are a little slow, so I got off early."

"Oh really? Do anything fun?"

"Just a few errands. Not much. What are you doing now?"

"I'm sittin' on the couch in the livin' room. I should get to bed. It's late, but…"

"But what?" he asked.

"It's just so lonely up there. And cold. I miss you sleepin' next to me."

"Aww, Honey, I miss you, too. Only twelve more days…"

"Feels like an eternity."

"I have an idea. Close your eyes. Are they closed?"

"Uh huh. Now what?"

"Picture my face. Can you see it?"

"Yes. And?"

"Now open your eyes."

Brenda startled as she opened her eyes and saw Fritz standing before her. She blinked several times to make sure that shadows weren't playing tricks on her in the dark. Could it really be him? She dropped her phone and ran to envelop him in a hug.

"Fritzy! How did... When…"

He silenced her with kisses, which she gladly reciprocated. He tasted like home and heaven and peace and chocolate. She held him tighter, afraid to let go or open her eyes for fear he might disappear, or she might wake up from what must be a dream, alone and cold in her childhood bedroom.

After a few minutes, Brenda pulled back to study his face. Slowly, she traced each feature with her fingers. "I can't believe you're really here with me. Let me go tell Daddy quick, so he's not surprised in the m—"

Fritz put a finger to her lips. "He already knows. How do you think I got in here? He snuck me in the back while you were outside saying goodbye to your brother. I've been hiding in the laundry room this whole time."

"I am shocked," she stated with mocked horror. "Y'all were conspirin'?"

"Are you complaining? 'Cause I can go back to the airport…" This time it was Brenda's turn to silence him with a kiss.

* * *

Brenda took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, sinking deeper into Fritz's arms. As they lay entwined, she couldn't help but think how right it felt to be held by him. She knew she'd definitely be able to sleep soundly tonight, for the first time in weeks. Fritz seemed to have other things on his mind besides sleep, however. As he trailed kisses down Brenda's neck to her shoulder, she had a hard time resisting him, yet she was apprehensive.

"Fritzy, we can't do this."

"Hmm?" Fritz mumbled as he pulled the strap of her tank top down and placed soft kisses to the tops of her breasts.

"Fritzy, my father's bedroom is right down the… hmm." Brenda was losing the battle, and Fritz smiled in triumph.

"Honey, you'll just have to keep your voice down for once."

"Me?" Brenda whispered. "I bet I can be quieter than you can."

"I'll take that bet," Fritz replied as he covered her mouth with his own and pulled the sheet up and over them both.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here you'll get to meet some more of Brenda's family. Thanks so much to those of you who have commented already. I really appreciate your feedback. If you haven't gotten around to it yet, drop me a line to let me know what you think. It will make my day :)_

**Chapter 2**

Brenda and Fritz made the most of their brief forty-eight hours together. After meeting with Clay Jr. and getting her father's finances straightened out, the two of them headed to the supermarket. With it being Labor Day weekend, they had talked Clay into hosting a cookout for the family. Clay agreed as long as he didn't have to do anything besides the grilling. He didn't trust anyone else with his grill, except maybe Fritz.

The couple spent the rest of the day cleaning the house, making salads, and ignoring Clay, who kept commenting on "how much trouble" they were going to for "just family" and what a "useless holiday it was anyway." Brenda was so happy to have Fritz around, even if all they were doing was chopping vegetables and scrubbing toilets. It felt so good to just be with him, and to not have the threat of work calling her away.

At one point in the afternoon, as Fritz was stirring the potato salad together, he caught Brenda staring at him. When he stopped to look back in her direction, she crossed the room, put her hands on his neck and kissed him deeply. Fritz was taken aback, but not altogether unhappy with Brenda's spontaneous display of affection.

"What was that for?"

"Oh, no reason really." Brenda moved her hand to his chest. "I just love you so much, and I'm so happy that you're here with me."

Fritz snaked his arms around Brenda's waist as she lay her head on his chest. He began to rock them slowly side-to-side. They were both quiet for several minutes before Fritz asked, "What's wrong, Honey?"

Brenda sighed. "I just don't want this to end."

"What are you talking about?"

Brenda pulled back slightly to look up at his face. "This. You and me just bein' together."

"Honey, I'm going home tomorrow night, but you'll be back the middle of next week. It's only a few more days, and then we'll be back together for good."

"But, it won't be the same. I'll be startin' my new job, and I don't want it to be like before."

"What do you mean?

Brenda pulled away and started towards the sink. She picked up a dish and began to wash it slowly. "At home, I feel like we're hardly ever together. One of us is always workin' and even when we're both home…"

"What?"

"I'm always focused on work. On my cases. I don't wanna be that way; I just can't help it."

"But your new job will be different. You won't have as much of a need for all those overtime hours like before, and the cases you'll be dealing with will be solved already. And Brenda?" She turned to look at him as he walked toward her. "I hate to say this, but Honey," Fritz took one of her hands in his. "Only _you_ can really control whether you're 'with me' when were together or if you're off somewhere else."

"I know. But you'll have to help me, Fritzy. We'll have to come up with some sorta code for when I'm not payin' attention or gettin' too wrapped up in work."

"A code?" Hmmm… How about I just…" Fritz kissed Brenda behind her ear.

"Mmmm…" Brenda replied with a smile. "That might work, but if I'm bein' crazy, you might not want to get this close."

"Or I could…" Fritz slowly inched his hand underneath Brenda's shirt and began tracing up her spine with his fingertips. She leaned in to capture his lips.

"Y'all better be careful, or you'll make the food spoil!"

Clay's interjection startled the two of them, causing them to jump apart. His scowl immediately changed to a smirk, however, and he left the room as quickly as he had entered.

Both Brenda and Fritz burst out laughing.

"Are you ok, Fritzy? I think I bit you." Brenda whispered as she checked the state of his bottom lip.

"It's fine. I'm used to it."

"What? It's not like I do it that often!"

"Oh yeah?" Fritz raised his eyebrows and pulled the neck of his t-shirt down to expose his right shoulder. Red teeth marks were clearly present there. "Exhibit A."

"Oh Fritzy." Brenda leaned in to softly kiss the mark she had left on him the night before. "It's your own fault, really," she mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"I told you it wasn't a good idea last night with my father in the house! That's what I had to do to keep quiet. I never had this problem before."

"Before what?"

"Before I met you!" Brenda blushed. "I was never _loud_ like that with anyone else."

"Really?" Fritz asked with raised eyebrows, then he became serious. "Well, I guess I'll just have to be a good boy tonight and keep my hands to myself…" His voice trailed off as he stepped away from Brenda.

"Don't you dare!" Brenda grabbed his hand and placed it on her hip. She did the same with the other. "It's our last night together until I come home next week. I'll try to behave." Brenda traced Fritz's ear and down his chin softly with her finger.

"It's alright, honey. I can take it like a man." Fritz said with a smile and leaned in for another kiss.

* * *

The next day was filled with family, food, and laughter. Bobby and Joyce were the first to arrive with Charlie and their son Jason. Shortly after that, Amy and Clay Jr. came with their four kids: Travis, a junior at Georgia Tech; Cole and Wyatt, high school senior and sophomore respectively; and eight-year-old Emerson Rose, their unexpected late-in-life baby. Even Jimmy surprised everyone by flying down from New York with his "roommate" Frank, who Brenda and her brothers knew was more than a friend, but didn't feel the need to explain it to Clay Sr. quite yet.

Brenda always felt closest to Jimmy, who was only 11 months older than she. When they were in elementary school, strangers often mistook them for twins, and they might as well have been with the kind of inseparable bond that they always had. Jimmy never minded doing "girl things" with her growing up, while Clay Jr. and Bobby wanted nothing to do with her Barbies and dolls. While she saw Jimmy the least, she had the most contact with him over the years. They emailed regularly, and talked on the phone at least once a month. Brenda's face positively lit up when he arrived.

After a round of hugs and some brief catching up, the family informally separated into groups. The men headed to the backyard to fire up the grill and engage in a friendly game of touch football. The women took charge of the kitchen and readied the table for the meal. Jimmy and Brenda were the exceptions and opted to hang out in the living room with little Emerson Rose.

"What have you got there, Emmy Rose?" Jimmy asked, motioning toward his niece's toys.

"Littlest Pet Shops. Want to see?" Jimmy and Brenda smiled as Emmy introduced her aunt and uncle to each animal, being sure to note their names. Brenda was always sure to give Emmy Rose some extra attention when they visited together. After all, Brenda knew what it was like being the youngest and only girl in the family.

"So, how's it going, B?" Jimmy asked Brenda when Emmy moved to the corner to finish setting up her toys. "You doin' all right takin' care of Daddy here?"

"Sure, Jim. Just worried about how he's gonna be after I leave."

"Well, he's got Bobby and Clay nearby, and the grand-kids. He'll be fine," he added, resting his hand on her arm. Brenda didn't respond. Jimmy smiled. "You know, for a woman who fights the idea of havin' kids so strongly, you really are quite the mother hen."

"I am not!" she blushed.

"When are you gonna let that good-lookin' husband of yours get you pregnant already," he whispered.

"Jimmy! Emmy Rose might here you! Do you know how old I am?"

"Of course I do. One year younger than me, so? The clock still tickin' down there and everythin'?"

She lightly smacked his arm. "I can't believe you would even ask me that! This subject is closed, and if you ever…"

"Burgers and dogs are ready!" Bobby shouted from the back door.

"Whooowee," answered Jimmy with a wink in Brenda's direction, "Saved by the dinner bell."

* * *

It was a lovely, yet informal dinner. Everyone filled their plates and sat at the picnic table or on the various lawn chairs spread throughout the backyard. Brenda stuck close to Fritz, whose flight was scheduled to leave at nine that evening. Every time Brenda tried to inconspicuously check her watch, Fritz would move her face toward him for a soft kiss or put his arm around her and squeeze. It was as if he was reassuring her that he was still there and that she should try her best to enjoy the moment, and not worry about what was ahead.

Before long, however, it was time to say good-bye. Frank, who needed to head back to New York, agreed to split a cab with Fritz. He and Jimmy said their good-byes privately, away from the eyes of Clay.

Brenda clung to Fritz's arm as Frank and Jimmy loaded the cab. He turned to her.

"Listen, Brenda, you'll be home in ten days."He cupped her cheek and brushed away one of her tears with his thumb. "Enjoy this time with your father, all right?" Brenda nodded. "And I'll call you every day if you want, ok?" She nodded again. He leaned in to rest his forehead against hers and whispered, "I love you."

Brenda sniffled. "I love you too, Fritzy." He kissed her gently, squeezed her tight, and then released his hold on her. He waved from the cab, and Brenda waved back, pulling her brown sweater tight and pretending it was Fritz's arms, still holding her close.

* * *

Although that first night without Fritz was difficult for Brenda, the rest of her time in Atlanta flew by more quickly than she could have imagined. She tried to enjoy every moment with her father, even when they were just having a quiet meal or watching TV together.

There were also lots of opportunities for Brenda to spend time with the rest of her family, and she treasured those moments as well. Jimmy was able to spend a few extra days in Atlanta, so he and Brenda made a point to use their time together to embarrass their nieces and nephews as much as possible. Jason, Cole, and Wyatt were all on the Roswell High football team, so Brenda and Jimmy attended a few games and cheered as loud as they could. They also met Emmy Rose at the bus stop on her first day of school and took lots of pictures.

Finally, it came to Brenda's last evening in Atlanta, and Amy and Clay Jr. were over for dinner with their three youngest. When it came to the end of the meal, Clay Sr. announced that the men would be cleaning up, because the women had gone to all the trouble of preparing the meal.

"But Daddy," Brenda admitted. "It was mostly Amy. I just set the table and made the salad."

"You did the mashed potatoes, too." Amy added with a wink.

As the men cleared the table and Emmy Rose excused herself to watch TV, Brenda pulled Amy aside. "Thanks again for dinner, Amy. Listen, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure, Brenda, anything."

"Would you be sure to check on Daddy after I'm gone? I know you're so busy with the kids and work and all, but you're the only one I really trust here. I mean, Jimmy's in New York, Clay's a workaholic, and, well, you know how useless Bobby and Joyce can be. I mean, Charlie's so sweet offerin' to help and all, but she's startin' college, and I know she'll be busy..."

"Don't worry about it, Brenda. You know he's like my daddy, too. I was so young when my own daddy died, and I've known yours since Clay and I started datin' in high school. I'll make sure he's all right. And he will be all right, Brenda. I promise." Amy rested a hand on her shoulder, and Brenda nodded in response.

"Thank you so much," Brenda said as she offered her sister-in-law a hug.

"Aunt Brenda?" A sweet little voice behind the two women whispered. Brenda broke away from Amy and squatted down to her niece's eye-level.

"What is it, Angel?" Brenda asked.

"Why do you have to go?" Emmy Rose's frown nearly broke Brenda's heart.

"Aww, Sweetheart, I gotta go home to your Uncle Fritzy. And I'm startin' my new job on Monday, so I have to get ready for that. But I'll be back again real soon."

"Promise?"

Brenda squeezed her little niece tight, and whispered, "I promise."

* * *

The next afternoon on her flight to LA, Brenda still had the image of her sweet, little niece in her mind. As she gazed out the plane's window, however, that image changed to the forlorn face of another whom she had bid farewell to—her father. If she really thought about it, she guessed that he was doing better than when she arrived, but it was all relative, she supposed. It's not as if one can put a timetable on grief.

Brenda consoled herself with the fact that she'd done all that she could to help him. She had stayed with him for an entire month, and she just had to get back home now. Of course, she would call to check on him regularly, and she promised that she'd return to Atlanta for Thanksgiving. Having had enough worrying for awhile, Brenda pulled her iPhone out of her bag and put in her ear buds. Charlie had agreed to make her a playlist for the plane, and she was curious to hear what music her niece had chosen. The soothing selections allowed Brenda to doze on and off for the next few hours.

Before she knew it, Brenda's plane was readying for arrival at LAX. As she watched the city grow closer outside her window, all she could think of was seeing Fritz's face. She ached to wrap her arms around him and breathe in his scent. It seemed like ages until it was her turn to disembark. Finally, she was off the plane, and she couldn't help but walk faster as she approached the security gate. She began scanning the crowd and her heart beat faster in anticipation. After a moment of panic when she couldn't find him, she spotted her handsome husband casually leaning against the wall to her left. He was staring at her with a coy smile, as if he'd been watching her the entire time. Slowly she strolled toward him, thinking that she finally felt like she was home.

The two didn't say much as they waited hand-in-hand for her luggage to come around the carousel. They didn't say much on the walk to Fritz's car either. However, as soon as Fritz pulled onto the freeway, Brenda's mind started going a mile a minute. She was going to need to schedule a hair appointment, get her eyebrows waxed, buy some new clothes. She was a Chief now, after all, she needed to look the part.

"Brenda?" Fritz's voice called her back to reality. "What are you thinking?"

"Fritzy, I have so much to do! Look at my hair. You can see my roots for heaven's sake! I need to get my hair cut and colored. I need a manicure and to get my eyebrows done."

When they stopped at a red light, Fritz leaned over and silenced her rambling with a kiss. Brenda was rendered speechless.

"What was that for?" She asked after a few seconds.

"Remember our deal? I'm supposed to remind you when you're going crazy."

"Right. Thank you. But there's still so much to do!"

"And it all can be done tomorrow, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Today is just for us. We're going to have a nice dinner and spend the evening getting reacquainted." Fritz emphasized that last word as he took Brenda's hand and kissed it.

"Well, when you put it that way," Brenda replied as she unlaced her fingers from his and began to rake them up the front of his thigh, "How can I refuse?"

Fritz white-knuckled the steering wheel. "You had better watch that hand, Brenda Leigh, if you want to get home in one piece." He glanced at her with pleading eyes.

"Drive faster, Agent Howard." Brenda lips curled into a wicked smile as she inched her hand closer to its goal.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's note:_**_Thanks again for all of the reviews. They really mean a lot and give me the confidence and encouragement to keep writing. I'm going to give another shout-out to Labyrinth who is just an awesome editor/beta/friend. The story would not be as good without her._

_It's starting to get a little angsty my friends..._

**Chapter 3**

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Fritz whispered in Brenda's ear. She groaned in response and barely moved from her position under the covers. "Honey, you don't want to be late for your first day of work," he warned. There was still no response from Brenda. "How about some coffee? Brenda?"

Slowly she opened one eye, then the other, and groaned again as she unhurriedly sat up in bed.

"Are you all right?" Fritz asked, half-concerned and half-amused by Brenda's dramatic display of lethargy.

"Must be the jet lag. You mentioned coffee?" Brenda stated matter-of-factly with the slightest hint of a smile.

"Be right back." Fritz made his way to the kitchen and fixed Brenda's coffee the way she liked it, with a generous squirt of honey. Brenda was the only person Fritz had ever met who took her coffee that way, he thought as he walked back to their bedroom. He couldn't believe it when he saw that Brenda had fallen back to sleep in her seated position. "Brenda!" he called and gently shook her shoulder to rouse her again. Her eyes flew open. "Here," he offered her the coffee. She moved her hand to take the mug from him, but as soon as the coffee's aroma reached her nose, a wave of nausea washed over her and she instead used her hand to cover her mouth.

"What is it?" Fritz answered, his concern growing. Brenda's face turned slightly green as she hopped out of bed and ran quickly to the bathroom. Fritz could hear Brenda making retching noises. Putting the coffee down, he gave her a minute, and then went in to check on her. "Brenda?" He peered in the doorway and saw her sitting on the floor next to the toilet with her head in her hands. "Maybe you shouldn't go in today."

"Fritzy, I can't miss my first day," she answered as she slowly stood up. At the sink, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and splashed some cold water on her face. After she dried off, she began to brush her teeth. "Ah pwa caw sum da pway," she mumbled between toothbrush strokes.

Fritz smiled. Maybe she was okay after all, but her actions this morning still worried him. After Brenda finished and rinsed out her mouth, Fritz asked, "What was that?"

"I said that I probably caught something on the plane. I'm sure it's nothin'," she swatted her hand for emphasis. "You just better keep that coffee away from me this mornin'."

"Okay. How about some toast? You really should eat something."

"All right. After my shower," she answered and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She started to undress. Fritz remained rooted in the same spot. "Fritzy, really, I feel fine now." Slowly he nodded and walked toward the kitchen. He was not totally convinced that Brenda was all right, but he decided to drop the subject for now.

* * *

The first thought that crossed Brenda's mind when she parked at her new workplace, the DA's Office's Los Angeles Headquarters, was how nice it was to be able to park by her building, and better yet, to have her own assigned parking space. She exited her car with a smile as she threw her new purse over her shoulder and walked toward the main entrance. It had taken awhile for her to decide what to wear this morning. She finally opted for her navy blue jacket and skirt—one of her power suits. She wanted to look the part of Chief, even if she didn't feel like one quite yet. Another wave of nausea hit her. It's just nerves, she reasoned, took a deep breath, and walked through the automatic doors.

Inside the lobby, she spotted the familiar face of Sergeant David Gabriel.

"Chief!" he called with a smile and hurried to greet her. He put out his hand for her to shake, but she embraced him in a hug instead.

"It's good to see you, David."

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments until Gabriel said, "Well, I have volunteered to show you around this morning. Shall we?"

* * *

"And this is the office for the Bureau of Investigation," Gabriel pointed toward the glass double-door entrance to Room 17-1102 and held it open for Brenda. After they entered, he introduced her to several of the investigators and other staff, whose names she was sure she would not remember in a few moments, but she smiled and shook their hands anyway. She'd learn their names eventually. When they reached her office, Brenda was immediately taken with the view from her large picture window. Being on the seventeenth floor afforded her a breathtaking panorama of the Los Angeles skyline. She began to relax for the first time all day, and Gabriel was quiet for a few moments, allowing her to absorb her new surroundings.

Brenda placed her bag beside the large, mahogany desk, and walked around to examine it from the back. Right away, she spotted the perfect drawer for her candy stash and smiled in realization. Quickly mapping out the room with her eyes, she mentally hung pictures and rearranged a few pieces of furniture.

"Chief Rivetti kept this office very ni-" Brenda started to say until a strong odor from behind her caused her to clutch her stomach and cover her mouth in disgust. Whirling around, she spotted Gabriel whispering with a petite, young Asian women who looked no older than 20. She was holding a cup carrier with four steaming beverages and turned her head to smile at Brenda.

"Chief Johnson, I'd like you to meet-"

"Restroom?!" Brenda choked out and raised her eyebrows in pleading question to Gabriel, who wordlessly pointed out the door and around the corner to the right.

"Chief, are you…" he started to ask, but she was already halfway down the hall.

* * *

Brenda felt like the walking dead as she entered the back door of the duplex that evening. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this tired. It was probably back when she was working for the LAPD on a murder, but usually then it was because she had gone several days without proper sleep. That was not the case now. She was sleeping well. Maybe too well. She had gotten eight or more hours of sleep while she was in Atlanta, and continued to do so after she arrived back in LA. Maybe after years of sleep deprivation, her body could no longer handle normal sleep patterns.

She certainly didn't miss being called out to crime scenes at all hours of the night. After years of practice, she'd become a master of dressing presentably in under five minutes. It was amazing that she was even able to find matching shoes. On the drive she was often still sleepy, but the sight of a mutilated body was always enough to rouse her. She had witnessed such unspeakable violence at those crime scenes. Her stomach lurched at the memories.

"Hey, Honey, how was your day?" Fritz greeted her with a smile and a kiss. He was cooking something, and for the first time all day, Brenda felt hungry and not nauseous at the sight of food.

"Oh, fine. Just fine," she answered. "I'm learning my way around and meetin' the staff. David was there. Most of today was spent siftin' through a mountain of paperwork." Brenda paused to lift the lid of the steaming pot on the stove. Fritz had made chicken soup.

"I thought you might like some soup, since your stomach's been bothering you. Is that all right?"

"It's perfect, Fritzy." She moved to hug him, and stayed wrapped in his arms for a minute, feeling her body relax. "I'm just gonna change quick, and then I'll have some," she added, pulling away.

"So, you're feeling better?" he called after her.

"Uh huh," she answered from the closet, not feeling the need to elaborate. Fritz didn't need to know that she had run to the restroom twice today to puke and had nearly made her new assistant cry when she asked her to get rid of the coffee she had been hoping to surprise Brenda with. She decided to change the subject. "How was your day?"

"Pretty good," he answered. "I saw some of the guys from your squad today. They were asking about you. Tao says he and Kathy want to make a date for us to go over to their place for dinner. Do you have any plans for next weekend?" He waited for her response and got none. "Brenda?"

Fritz wandered into the bedroom and found her in her sweats, curled up and fast asleep on the bed. He debated whether or not to wake her. She had been so tired for the last few days, and especially this morning, and he wondered if she was fighting some sort of virus. He covered her with a blanket, kissed her cheek and left her to rest.

* * *

Over the next few days, Brenda fell into a morning routine. After prying her reluctant eyes open, she would shower and then throw up, sometimes barely having rinsed the conditioner from her hair before dashing to the toilet. Luckily, Fritz had been leaving quite early to take part in some kind of stakeout, so he was oblivious to the bizarre morning ritual that her body seemed to have adopted. The last thing that she needed, on top of the stress of starting a new job and feeling terrible, was Fritz fussing over her.

By Thursday, she started to worry that there was something more seriously wrong with her than just a simple stomach bug. Those usually lasted a day or two, not almost a week like this one had. And she was so unbelievably exhausted. She wished she could turn to coffee for some sort of relief, a little boost of energy, no matter how temporary, but the smell just made her stomach turn these days. What was going on?

Brenda pondered all of this during her shower. As she was washing with her loofa sponge, she had to stop when she came to her breasts. They were so tender. It felt like she was scrubbing herself with a steel wool pad. She looked to see if she had some unknown rash or bruise, but her skin was unblemished. Yet another bizarre malady, she thought—fatigue, sore breasts, nausea in the morn—

No.

It couldn't be.

She racked her brain. When was her last period?

She needed a calendar.

Quickly, she turned off the water, grabbed a towel and ran to her bedside table, where she kept a small day planner. She turned to August.

"Think, think, think, think..." she chanted like a mantra. It was the night she arrived in Atlanta—August 17.

She had to count three times.

Today was September 20.

She was eight days late.

Eight days. There was no explaining this one away. Brenda was never more than a day or two late. With the whole Stroh ordeal before she left for Atlanta, she had been three or four days late, but that was understandable in light of the enormous amount of stress that her body had endured.

She sat dumbstruck on her bed. What should she do? There was only one thing to do. It was something she never did. Not since the day after Will Pope broke up with her that is.

She picked up the phone and called in sick.

* * *

Time is such a funny thing. Sometimes it can just fly by. Brenda had spent a whole month in Atlanta, and it had felt like only a few days. She had been together with Fritz for almost seven years now, and it sometimes seemed like they had just gotten reacquainted yesterday.

In the grand scheme of things, five minutes is nothing really, unless you're waiting to find out if you're pregnant. Einstein was right; it is all relative.

As the minutes dragged on, Brenda's mind wandered. She pictured herself a few months from now, her stomach ballooned out to the size of a house. Her feet so swollen all she can slip on are those hideous rubber flip-flops. Wearing tent dresses. She can't even bend to shave her legs. If she survives the pregnancy then what? Labor. She couldn't even think about that. She had gone to the hospital with Amy when she had delivered Emmy Rose, because Clay Jr. had been stranded in New York on business during a freak April snowstorm. In all her career working in homicide, Brenda had never heard such screams like the ones that came out of her sister-in-law that day.

And afterward. What was Brenda supposed to do with a baby? She had changed one diaper in her life and it had fallen off her poor nephew Wyatt's bottom as soon as she picked him up. Breastfeeding. How does that work? With sheer horror, she imagined herself having to pump in her office at work, with her door locked tight and shades drawn, of course. She couldn't fathom what her chest would look like after using a Medieval torture device like a breast pump for several months.

Will Fritzy ever want to touch me again? she wondered.  
And who's gonna watch this baby while we're both at work all day? I'm certainly not staying home with it. That leaves a nanny or daycare. But things happen, and childcare is not 100% reliable. She could only imagine what her new staff would think of their Chief with an infant strapped to the front of her like a mother kangaroo.

Wait a minute, she thought, I'm 45 years old. Can I even get pregnant at this age? Didn't Dr. Dioli say PCOS causes infertility? And even so, I'm always careful. I take my pills religiously. Well, except for in Atlanta. And then it was just that one time, well more like three times actually. Damnit! Why did Fritz have to come out there anyway?

If I'm not pregnant, though, then what's wrong with me? Could I be going through menopause for real this time? Or is it something else.

That "something else" scared her even more than the possibility of pregnancy, because cancer was on the list. Brenda felt another wave of nausea.

DINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Brenda's heart almost stopped when the oven timer went off. She moved to silence its shrieking and paused to catch her breath. Her pulse was racing. Once her breathing had calmed, she slowly walked to the bathroom, dreading what she'd find there.

She didn't want to have to deal with that plus sign or minus sign, one line or two, pink or blue crap. She'd sprung for the big one, the Porsche of pregnancy tests , if you will. She wanted a clear digital answer, and she got one:

PREGNANT


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Ok, everyone, it's about to get really heavy. Don't say I didn't warn you. Just remember what I told you. You've already read the ending. It will all work out eventually. It will just take some time._

_Thanks again to all of you who have taken the time to review. I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter, but I was working on another story for TCF's Valentine's Day Fanfic Challenge. If you haven't gotten the chance yet, please read my entry for that challenge, which is titled _Perfect Timing_, and let me know what you think. _

**Chapter 4**

"So, you are definitely pregnant," Dr. Dioli stated as she reentered the exam room in which Brenda had been waiting. She broke out into a cold sweat at the doctor's declaration. "Taking the date of your last period into account, I'd put you at about five weeks along. You probably conceived sometime around..."

"August 31st," Brenda added quietly.

"Yes, that fits exactly."

"I was in Atlanta for a month. I forgot my pills, but I figured it didn't really matter. Fritz paid me a surprise two-day visit." She looked up at the doctor, who smiled.

"That puts your due date at around May 24th."

Brenda was only half-listening. Her mind was still going a mile a minute. As soon as she had gotten the results of her at-home test, she had immediately called Dr. Dioli's office. Luckily she had had a cancellation and could take Brenda today.

"How did this happen?" Brenda asked.

"Well, Brenda, when you don't take your pill regularly..."

"No, I mean, I thought that PCOS caused infertility."

"Yes, that's true, but I've learned to never say never, especially when it comes to the human body."

"Lucky me, the one exception," Brenda mumbled. "So what now?"

"Well, I'd like to start you on prenatal vitamins and schedule a sonogram for a few weeks out." She paused to put down Brenda's chart for a minute so she could look her in the eye. "I'm not gonna lie, Brenda, pregnancy at your age carries some risks, but you're strong and healthy, and I see no reason..."

"What kinds of risks?" Brenda cut her off, feeling as if her worst fears were about to be realized. It was that dreaded "something else" again.

"Well, I'd really rather you make an appointment to come back next week, and maybe you could bring Fritz? We'll talk then."

"No, I want to know now. Not knowin' is worse. And I'll probably just go on the internet when I get home anyway, and who knows what I'll find there."

"No, definitely don't do that." Dr. Dioli hesitated. "Ok, at your age there is 50/50 chance of miscarriage."

Ok, not the end of the world, Brenda thought.

"And there is an increased risk of the baby having some sort of genetic abnormality, like Down Syndrome." Brenda's face went white. "But, we would test for all of that when you're a little further along, so we can know what we're dealing with," she tried to reassure her.

"And what about risks to me?" Brenda asked tentatively.

"Women at your age are at higher risk of hypertension and gestational diabetes. I would be especially concerned about the latter in your case, because of your insulin intolerance as a result of PCOS."

That was it. Brenda had heard enough. She hopped off the table and grabbed her purse.

"Thank you so much, Doctor," she said as she reached for the door.

"Brenda, please make an appointment for next week. And bring Fritz. I know this is a lot to take in at once."

"I'll be in touch," Brenda called over her shoulder as she headed out.

* * *

Brenda was already in bed when she heard Fritz arrive home later that evening. She looked over at her clock. It was 8:45—somewhat early, but not quite enough to cause suspicion.

She contemplated feigning sleep, but she really did miss seeing his face. He entered their bedroom quietly, and Brenda popped her head up. "Hey," she greeted him softly.

"Hey," he responded with a smile as he bent down to kiss her. She felt tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes from the emotional roller coaster she had been on all day, but she willed them away and asked, "How was work?"

Fritz sighed deeply as he collapsed on the bed beside her. "Brutal lately. I was hoping to be able to get home at a decent hour by offering to man the wire taps early in the day, but they still seem to find other things for me to do. Luckily, tonight we made our arrest, though. Things should be less crazy now."

"Really, Fritzy? That's wonderful." Keep talking, she told herself, about anything except how my day was. "I made clam linguini for dinner. There's plenty in the fridge if you're hungry."

Fritz perked up at the mention of food. "I'll be right back." He made his way into the kitchen. Brenda relaxed back onto her pillow.

"So, you must have gotten home early today. Have you been feeling any better?" There it was. The question she'd been dreading.

"Uh huh, yeah. Pretty good today." She hadn't thrown up this morning, so it wasn't exactly a lie.

"Was work okay today?" A trickier question.

"Yup. It was fine." Ok, that was a lie, but if she told him she didn't go, then she'd have to explain why. And she just wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

Fritz returned with a Tupperware of pasta and a fork.

"Are you eating that cold?" Brenda asked in disgust.

"What? It's good this way. Want a bite?" he offered. Her stomach lurched, but she would not let herself be sick right now.

"I'm fine, thanks," she managed to choke out.

He sat beside her and continued to eat quietly. She watched him in what she hoped was an inconspicuous manner. His hair was a bit mussed and he had some sauce on his chin. He was just so damned handsome, Brenda had to fight the urge to kiss him. She was afraid that a wave of emotion would overtake her if she gave in. She turned away and an image of a little boy with food on his face, mussed hair, and Fritz's smile flashed across her mind.

"Are you all right, Honey?" he asked. An errant tear had escaped her eye. Shit. She wiped it away quickly and forced a smile.

"I'm fine."

"Brenda, I know when something's bothering you. Please tell me."

"I just miss my daddy is all. I was thinking about him a lot today." A terrible lie. Sometimes it scared her how easily they rolled off her tongue.

"Aww, Honey, it's okay," he put down the food container to give her a hug. Brenda breathed him in deeply. She wanted to scream, "I'm pregnant!" and let Fritz kiss away all of her fears, but she couldn't. Not yet. She wasn't ready.

"Fritzy?" she murmured.

"Hmm?"'

She hated to ask. She hated being needy, but she couldn't help herself. "Would you hold me until I fall asleep?"

He smiled. "Of course, Sweetheart. Give me two minutes." He rushed to change and put the pasta away.

Brenda thought of what a great father Fritz would be. He was such a nurturer. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be thrilled that she was pregnant. The question was, how did she feel about it? Was she really cut out to be a mother? And what about all of these risks that Dr. Dioli mentioned? She needed to make a decision, and fast.

Fritz reentered the room, turned off the light, and spooned in behind her. Tomorrow. She would decide all of this tomorrow. For now, she would just enjoy the feel of her husband's arms holding her close to his heart.

* * *

The next morning, Brenda awoke with a start. The clock read 4:56am. She untangled herself from Fritz, and by some miracle he remained asleep. She could feel the bile rising in her throat, but she knew he would wake up if he heard her vomit. She quickly tiptoed outside and around the side of the house to throw up. She felt ridiculous, but what choice did she have? Brenda was a master of denial, especially when it came to her personal life, but even she knew this pregnancy couldn't remain a secret for much longer. Something had to be done. But what that something was, she hadn't a clue.

* * *

Tessa Mei Wong knew she was in trouble. She had already gotten off on the wrong foot with her new boss on the first day by surprising her with coffee. How was she supposed to know that the Chief didn't like coffee? Everyone likes coffee, don't they?

Maybe she should have stuck to the cello. She could've been a concert cellist, touring Europe and rubbing elbows with aristocrats all over the world. Instead, she had studied Criminal Justice at Stanford and was working on her law degree. Stupid, stupid girl, she thought. She had always been bright, an excellent student with straight A's. And she wasn't one of those antisocial nerds either, she was personable. People liked her! Well, most people, but not Chief Johnson.

Detective Gabriel kept insisting that Tessa give the Chief a chance. "Trust me," he'd say. "She's a little eccentric, but she's brilliant. You'll learn a lot from her." Tessa wasn't convinced.

And now she'd made another mistake. She'd forgotten to inform Chief Johnson of the interdepartmental meeting this morning. Oh, this was not going to be good. Tessa took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the Chief's office.

"Come in," she called.

"Chief Johnson, I'm so sorry, but I forgot to tell you about the meeting this morning. There is an interdepartmental meeting at 11:30."

"Huh?" She replied. She looked a million miles away.

Tessa reluctantly stepped closer. "There's an interdepartmental meeting at 11:30 in Conference Room C. I'm sorry I forget to tell you earlier. But, you were out yesterday and I just…"

The Chief waved her off. "It's fine, Teresa. 11:30. I'll be there," she smiled.

Tessa was shocked. She had never seen the Chief smile at anyone besides Detective Gabriel. She nodded and quickly exited the room, not bothering to correct the Chief for calling her the wrong name. She'd gotten a smile out of her. She'd take what she could get.

An hour later, Tessa was deciding what to have for lunch. Since it was Friday, the department was ordering takeout as usual. She was so engrossed in the menu that she didn't notice that someone had entered the office and was standing right in front of her.

She jumped when she looked up and saw the face of a handsome man with dark hair and eyes in a crisply tailored suit. She righted her glasses and fumbled over her words, "Can I, uh, help you, Sir?"

"I'm sorry to have startled you. I'm Special Agent Fritz Howard of the FBI," he offered her his hand and she stood to take it in a firm handshake. He had soft hands for a man, and warm, too. She didn't want to let go, but she did.

"Tessa Mei Wong," she replied with a smile. She was probably blushing like a school girl.

"I was looking for Chief Johnson," Agent Howard added as he scanned the room. "Is she available?"

Tessa quickly snapped into assistant mode. "Do you have an appointment, Agent Howard?" She knew how the Chief hated to be bothered when she was busy. Although, Tessa couldn't see how Agent Howard would be a bother to anyone.

"Oh, no," he added with a chuckle. "I should have mentioned that I'm her husband. I was hoping to take her to lunch. Do you know where she is?"

Tessa hoped he didn't notice the shock on her face. How could such a handsome man be married to such a miserable woman?

"Umm, Chief Johnson is in a meeting, but she should be out any minute. Would you like to wait in her office?"

"Sure , thank you. Is it right through here?" Agent Howard motioned.

"Yes," she replied, blushing again. God, he was good-looking.

"All right then. It was very nice meeting you, Miss Wong."

"Likewise," she added with a grin.

* * *

Fritz wasn't sure how Brenda was going to react to having him drop in unannounced. He hoped she would be ok with it. He hadn't expected his boss to send him home early today, but he certainly was glad that his hard work all week had not gone unnoticed.

He had felt disconnected from Brenda this week with his long hours and her being so tired. He was glad she was feeling better, but he knew something was still off. He just couldn't put his finger on it. She hadn't quite been the same since she had returned from Atlanta. Brenda never liked talking about her feelings, but he was going to make her open up this weekend whether she liked it or not.

He circled the room to take in his surroundings. This was the first time he had set foot in her new office. It was a lot nicer than her office at the LAPD—definitely warmer and more inviting. Brenda had only been in this office a week, but he could see her little touches already. She had hung her favorite picture on the wall and Fritz was betting money her candy stash was in place. But in which drawer? He took a guess, opened the top drawer on the left, and smiled at the heaping pile of treats that he found inside. He reached for a Hershey Kiss and noticed a stack of folded papers in the back. Curiously, he lifted them out and unfolded them. The bolded words at the top of the page took him by surprise:

**Abortion Clinics in LA County**.

At first he thought it must be for a case she was investigating, but then he noticed a few words jotted in her handwriting that gave him pause:

_Must__ bring someone to take me home. Who?_

Me? Take _me_ home? Moments from the past week flashed across his mind. Brenda vomiting in the morning. Brenda falling asleep as soon as she came home from work. Brenda flinching as he cupped her breasts when they made love last weekend. Could she really be pregnant and not tell him? Could she really have an abortion and hide it from him? He wanted to rush down to that conference room, pull her out of her meeting, and demand answers. He was seething with such rage that he was frightening himself.

* * *

Brenda glanced at her watch as she rode the elevator back to her office. It was almost 1:00, no wonder she was hungry. She knew she'd missed the lunch order, so she'd have to run out quickly and pick something up. She wouldn't make it the rest of the day otherwise. Exiting the elevator, she strode toward her office to retrieve her wallet and keys. She could smell the remnants of takeout in her department and it was making her mouth water.

She stopped cold when she reached her desk. Someone had been going through her drawers and had found the stack of papers that she had hoped would remain hidden. Clearing her throat, she called to her assistant. What was her name for heaven's sake?

"Teresa!"

The young women appeared at her door a moment later.

"Has someone been in my office?" Brenda asked, as she straightened up and tried to hide the papers strewn about.

"Just your husband, Chief," Tessa answered.

Brenda white-knuckled the edge of her desk to keep herself from falling over. "Fritz was in here?" she squeaked.

"Yes, I let him in, and then I went to pick up the office's lunch order." Tessa noticed her boss' paled expression and feared she'd made a grave error. "When I came back, he was gone. I thought he'd taken you to lunch, like he'd planned." She hesitated. "I'm sorry, Chief, should I have not let him in?"

Brenda became dizzy and landed hard in her chair. She held her head in her hands.

"Chief Johnson?" Tessa pressed.

Brenda managed to pull herself together, grabbed her bag and stood. "I need to go," she stated matter-of-factly as she rushed passed Tessa and out the door.

"Ok... Will you be back today? Chief?" Tessa called after her, but she was already gone.

* * *

Brenda knew she had to explain things to Fritz, but how? What should she say? She was still processing the news herself and trying to sort out her own feelings. She knew she was breaking several traffic laws as she sped home, but she couldn't help herself. She needed to get to Fritz, and she hoped he was there. Once she arrived and spotted his car in the driveway, however, she sat frozen in place. How should she handle this? She dug deep into the recesses of her mind to her investigative training. She knew it was important to remain calm and assess the situation before deciding how to proceed. Taking a deep breath, she got out of her car and walked to the back door with determined steps. As she turned the doorknob slowly, she listened for Fritz.

In the direction of the bedroom, she heard the sounds of items being thrown on the bed. When she got close enough, she saw what looked like furious packing. Brenda felt her knees buckle, and she struggled to remain upright. Her worst fear was being realized.

"Fritz," she whispered, hoping to get his attention and hoping he wouldn't hear her both at the same time. When he looked up, Brenda took a step back in fear. She had never seen Fritz so angry, and it shook her to her core.

"What are you doing here?" He asked coolly.

"I, uh..." Brenda stammered. For once in her life, she was at a complete loss for words.

"Is there something that you'd like to tell me?" Fritz asked as he took a step towards her. Brenda responded by taking a step back. She was sure that Fritz would never hit her, but that still was not enough to assuage the fear induced by the look of naked fury on her husband's face.

"Fritz, I was gonna tell you, honest."

"When? After you'd 'taken care of it?'" He emphasized the last phrase with air quotes.

Brenda swallowed. "No, Fritz, I just wanted to get all of the information first—find out what our options are."

"Our _options_?!"

"Well, technically I don't need your permission," she mumbled.

"What did you say?" he snapped. "That baby is half mine!" He pointed to her belly, as if marking his territory.

"But it's my body!"

"Don't you dare, Brenda. Don't you dare give me that feminist bullshit! You are not some 14-year-old girl, some rape victim. You are not a single woman with no support. You are my wife!"

"What's that supposed to mean? Love, honor, and _obey_? I don't have rights?"

"No, it means we talk about things, Brenda. Important things, like _our _baby! God, do you even realize..." A deep sob choked his throat. He struggled to speak, but all he could do was cry.

Brenda's heart was breaking. She knew she was twisting a knife in Fritz's chest. It was nearly killing her, but she didn't know what else to do.

"Fritz, I'm sorry, I just..."

"You're sorry? You know what, Brenda? I don't want to hear anymore. Right now, I can't even stand to look at you."

Fritz grabbed his duffel bag and was out the door in five paces. He slammed the door so hard that Brenda felt it.

Like a slap across her face.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for patience. I had a hard time with this chapter. Crawling inside of Brenda and Fritz's heads and trying to describe their feelings in this situation was kind of exhausting. I hope I did them justice. Kudos to Labyrinth, my editor, once again. _

_Oh, and I love your comments and reviews like Brenda Leigh loves chocolate. Just sayin' ;)_

**Chapter 5**

White, hot rage flowed through Fritz's veins as he peeled out of his driveway and onto the street. It seemed as if he had no control over his right foot, which insisted on pushing the accelerator to the floor. He glanced frantically in each direction, but barely slowed for stop signs. Tears were pooling in his eyes, obstructing his vision, and he occasionally released his death-grip on the steering wheel to swipe them away.

He needed to get away from her, to put as much distance between the two of them as possible, because he was afraid of himself. He had never felt such anger. Was it possible to love and hate someone at the same time? He didn't think so, but it was how he felt. This must be some sick twisted way of being punished for his past—to be given a child and have it snatched away so quickly. He tried every day to atone for the sins of his former life as an alcoholic, but it wasn't enough. Karma was a nasty bitch. What was the point of trying to be a better man when you still got bit in the ass down the road anyway?

Fritz was in a daze. He didn't think he was headed anywhere in particular, but suddenly he was parked. He removed his hands from the steering wheel. They ached from clutching it so tightly. He unclenched his jaw and took a few deep breaths, trying to return his racing heart to a normal rhythm. Where was he?

He looked up and saw the neon signs advertising Coors, Budweiser, and Miller. Subconsciously he had driven to a familiar dive bar from his drinking days. His mouth watered for a taste of scotch. Just a sip, and he would be okay, he thought. Closing his eyes, he could taste and almost feel the delicious burn of the cool liquid running down his throat. His hand shook as he reached for the car door. He was ready to throw eight years of sobriety out the window, but his feet were like lead. He needed help. He reached for his cell phone and dialed his AA sponsor.

"Hello?"

"Matt, it's Fritz," he choked out, the desperation apparent in his voice.

"Fritz, what's wrong? Where are you?"

"Outside of Hank's."

"I'll be right there. Listen to me, Fritz, do not move! Wait for me, all right?" He heard silence on the other line. "Fritz, are you there?"

He took a deep breath and sighed. Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, he responded, "Yes. I'll wait."

Fritz turned off his cell and it slipped from his hand. He had no idea where it fell, and he didn't care. Feeling broken and defeated, he slumped against the steering wheel and sobbed.

* * *

It was getting late. Tessa looked at the clock again. It was 6:32 on a Friday evening, and the last few people were packing up for the day. Should she leave, too? Usually she waited for Chief Johnson to dismiss her, but when she had returned at a little after two, she had given Tessa strict orders not to bother her unless the building was on fire.

Where was a match when she needed one?

Normally she couldn't care less how late she stayed at work. It's not like she had anyone to go home to except her two cats, but she and some girlfriends from school had plans to go out for dinner and drinks at 7:30, and she was really looking forward to it. Although she tried, Tessa was a terrible cook, and law school was expensive. This was her one monthly splurge, and she was not going to miss it. Not to mention the fact that she could really use a drink after the week she'd had.

Although she hadn't attended mass since her high school graduation, Tessa made the sign of the cross before she softly rapped on her boss' door. She waited a few seconds and then tried again. When she still got no response, she turned the knob slowly and peaked inside. The Chief had her chair turned around and was staring out the window, as if in a trance.

"Excuse me, Chief?"

"Hmm?" she responded as she turned toward her assistant.

"Everyone's gone for the day. Is there anything else you need from me?"

The Chief looked at her watch. "Oh, sorry, no. You can go then, Teresa. Have a good weekend now." She offered a half-smile, but Tessa could tell it wasn't genuine. Taking in her sad eyes and shaking hands, she almost felt sorry for the Chief. What had really happened this afternoon?

"Chief?" she began.

The blonde woman looked up at her. "Yes?"

She thought better of it, and simply said, "Good night."

* * *

Brenda felt numb when she returned to the duplex an hour later. She dropped her bag and stripped off her clothing, allowing it to fall randomly as she made her way to the bathroom. She stepped into the shower and turned the water hotter and hotter until it burned her skin. Washing her hair, she purposely let the shampoo run into her eyes until it stung. She wanted to punish herself for believing it could have ever worked between Fritz and her. He deserved someone better—someone who could be a mother to his child, but not Brenda. She was nobody's mother.

She didn't know why she was surprised that he had left her. That's what they all did. It was only a matter of time. Men were attracted to her, she knew that. She had a great body, and she used it to her advantage. She had gotten many a male suspect to confess because of her looks and charm. It also didn't hurt that she was good in bed. She knew this because men had told her so. It probably came from being such a great observer, and having a good memory. It didn't take Brenda long to figure out what pleased a man, and she was able to deliver on those fantasies, much to his enjoyment.

Fritz was different, though. Brenda had always enjoyed sex, but never so much as when she started having it with Fritz. For the first time in her life, someone cared about her wants, her desires, and she felt loved. Sex became something so much more for Brenda. It became something she shared, rather than something she simply gave away.

As she dried herself off with a towel, fresh, hot tears streamed down Brenda's face. She'd thought there couldn't possibly be any left, but they kept on coming. She wept for what she had with Fritz. Stupidly, she had thought it would be different with him, but she was wrong. Just like the others, he began asking too much, and she just couldn't give him anymore.

She pulled on one of his FBI t-shirts and burrowed under the covers on his side of the bed. She wondered how long his scent would last there as she drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

After talking with Matt for almost two hours, a weary Fritz took his sponsor up on the offer to buy him dinner. He was ravenous, but when his burger arrived, all he could manage were a few bites. Fritz was all talked-out at this point, so the two shared a quiet meal.

Afterward, Matt insisted they attend a Meeting, and he found one a little ways out of town, so they wouldn't have to deal with questions from the regulars wondering what was going on with the usually cheerful Fritz.

Fritz fell asleep on the car ride back to Matt's and didn't need much convincing to spend the night at his sponsor's house. He was glad for the offer actually, because although he had packed himself a bag, he hadn't really given much thought as to where he would be sleeping tonight.

"Jake, our oldest, is away at college, so you can stay in his room for as long as you need," Matt told Fritz as they approached the front door.

"And you're sure this is okay with Sheila?" Fritz inquired about Matt's wife.

"Of course," Matt replied with a smile. "I already called to run it by her while you were in the restroom at dinner. Ever since you came to her rescue when she had that flat tire, you are one of her favorite people."

While Brenda was in Atlanta, Sheila had called Fritz in a panic one Sunday afternoon. Apparently she had grabbed Matt's phone by mistake that morning before running their twins to a birthday party. On her way, a tire on their minivan went flat on a deserted stretch of road, and it started to rain hard. Sheila racked her brain trying to figure out whom she should call. She knew Matt was out running errands of his own and was without his cell phone, thanks to her. When she picked up Matt's phone, the most recent call was to Fritz and she thought she'd take a chance even though she didn't know him very well. Fritz picked up on the second ring and was more than happy to help.

"Hey, Fritz," Sheila greeted him warmly with a hug as he and Matt made their way inside.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Six-year-old Ben and Molly cheered as they ran to welcome their father, but they slowed when they realized he wasn't alone. The two bashfully hid behind their mother.

"Molly, Ben," Matt crouched down to speak with his children. "This is my friend Mr. Fritz. He is going to be staying with us for a few days. Can you say, 'Hello?'"

"Hi," Ben greeted him, while Molly shyly waved. Then the boy asked, "Daddy, can you play Wii with us?"

"Maybe tomorrow, Bud. We have company tonight."

"Well, Mr. Fritz could play, too."

Fritz smiled. "Well, thank you, Ben, but I'm pretty tired tonight and I think I'm just going to go to bed."

Matt added, "And I think it's someone else's bedtime, too."

"Aww, Daddy," the twins whined, "But it's Friday!"

"How about," Sheila suggested, "you put on your PJs, brush your teeth, and bring your sleeping bags into the living room where we can watch a movie."

"Yeah!" They both cheered as they rushed toward the stairs.

"They'll be out like a light in less than fifteen minutes," Sheila said with a wink as she kissed Matt's cheek. "There are clean sheets on the bed, and I left a towel and washcloth out for you. Matt can get you soap or whatever else you need, Fritz. Good night." She headed upstairs as well.

"Thanks so much, Sheila," Fritz called after her. Matt showed Fritz to his son Jake's bedroom, which was located in their finished basement. After surveying the room for a minute, Fritz quietly sat on the bed.

"Is there anything else that you need, Fritz?" Matt asked.

Yes, Fritz wanted to answer. I need Brenda. I have never been so angry with her, but I need her. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive her, but I need her. I need her so much, it hurts.

"Nope," he replied, trying to manage a smile.

Matt didn't buy it. He knew Fritz too well. He took a seat beside him. "Listen, Fritz, I am probably the last person who should be giving marriage advice here. Mine is certainly far from perfect, but I really think you need to try and look at this from Brenda's side. I'm not saying what she did to you was right, but she hasn't really _done_ anything yet. It sounds like she still needs to make up her mind. And I think you should hear her out."

"But, Matt, this is my child. I am almost 50 years old. Brenda is 45. This is my last chance. You know how much I want kids."

"Yes, I do, Fritz. But I also know how much you love Brenda. Are you willing to lose her over this?"

That's what it all came down to, and Fritz didn't have an answer. "I don't know, Matt. I just don't know."

Matt took a deep breath. "Listen Fritz, Sheila and I never expected to have any more kids after Jake and Allie." Fritz looked up and Matt quickly added. "Don't get me wrong. I love all of my kids, but when Sheila told me that she was pregnant with the twins, I kind of lost it. I was 43 years old. My kids were 9 and 12 and finally at the point where they didn't need me every second. Life was very comfortable.

"At first I blamed Sheila for not being careful enough. I said terrible things to her. I wasn't the supportive husband that I should have been. Once the babies came, of course, I fell in love with them, but it hasn't been all smooth sailing. Getting up three, four times in the middle of the night is hard enough when you're in your twenties. As a man approaching middle age, it almost killed me."

"I never knew any of this. You seemed so happy about the twins."

"Of course I did, Fritz. I'm your sponsor. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to dump my problems on you. That's what _my_ sponsor is for… The point that I'm trying to make is, please think long and hard about this. Think about what it will take to raise a baby at your age. Think about how all of this will affect your marriage. Honestly, I can't blame Brenda for freaking out a little. It's an overwhelming situation."

Fritz's ran his fingers through his rumpled hair and rubbed his tired, red eyes. His rage from earlier in the evening had fizzled into an aching which began in his head and ran all the way to his toes. He had never felt so physically exhausted, but his mind was racing.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," he admitted as Matt's words began to play tug-of-war with his own thoughts. His head started to pound, and he rubbed his temples in an effort to soothe the ache.

"Well, it sounds like you have some serious thinking to do. For now, try and get some rest, though. We can talk more in the morning if you want, all right?"

Fritz nodded.

"Good night, man. I'm just upstairs if you need me."

"Thanks, Matt," Fritz called after him. After the door shut at the top of the stairs, Fritz lay down on the blue and white LA Dodger's bedspread and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars above him. He started to pick out the constellations formed in the celestial ceiling and long after exhausting his meager knowledge, fell into a heavy sleep.

* * *

Brenda cursed at the cheery sunlight that pierced through the open blinds straight onto her eyelids the next morning. Her head pounded like she'd spent the entire night drinking, when all she'd done was cry. Thank God it was Saturday.

She stumbled to the bathroom and crouched by the toilet as dry heaves racked her weak body. She wished she actually had something in her stomach to throw up; maybe it would offer her some relief. She hadn't eaten anything yesterday except for a cereal bar in the car on the way to work. She checked her reflection in the mirror and became sick to her stomach once more. She barely recognized herself. With her red swollen eyes and wild hair, she looked like a creature from one of those zombie movies. She reached for her hairbrush, but gave up before her hand even touched the handle. What would be the point?

In the kitchen, she searched the cabinets for something to quiet her ravenous stomach. She really needed to go shopping, but Fritz usually took care of that. She spotted his favorite cereal, Cap'n Crunch, and tears started forming in her eyes. Damn hormones, she thought. She picked up the box. Fritz loved this stuff. She couldn't stand it.

She ate three bowls.

Having satisfied her hunger, she grabbed a large bag of M&M's she had hidden in the cabinet beneath the sink and climbed back under the covers. She tried to find a mindless TV show to pass the time. _Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo_ seemed to fit the bill.

Two hours and four episodes later, a dozing Brenda was awakened by the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the bedside table. She said a silent prayer that it wasn't Fritz. She still hadn't worked out what to say to him, not that she'd spent much time thinking about it yesterday afternoon. Instead, she did what she did best—she buried herself in her work. Afterward, she came home and cried herself to sleep. She cried for the sorry state of her life, and for men like Fritz who became entangled in it. She hadn't allowed herself to think about what she was going to do about her pregnancy.

If having an abortion meant losing Fritz, would she do that? She shook her head and picked up her phone. She wasn't going there.

Without her glasses in reach, she couldn't read the display. It was like playing Russian Roulette. Should she answer without knowing who was calling?

"Chief Johnson," she braced herself.

"B! What on earth is goin' on? I've been emailin' you for days and haven't heard hide nor hair from ya!"

Jimmy.

Brenda breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey, Jimmy. Sorry about that. I've just been busy is all."

"Bull. Don't you lie to me, B. I know you too well. I can hear it in your voice. Spill it. Is it the job?"

Damnit. She couldn't lie to him. The tears started again.

"Aww, B. It's all right. Tell me, please."

Brenda took a deep breath. "It's not work; it's somethin' else." She took a second to summon up some courage. "Listen, you can't tell anyone about this, all right?"

"Scouts' honor. You know you can trust me."

She did. "Jimmy, I'm pregnant."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's not so bad. Did you tell Fritz?"

Brenda hesitated. What would her brother think of her? "He found out before I had the chance. He was so angry that I kept it from him, he packed a bag and left."

"That doesn't sound like Fritz," Jimmy thought out loud. "There's somethin' you're not tellin' me, isn't there?"

"For heaven's sake! What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Listen, B, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"You can't help me, Jim." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I think I want an abortion."

"Ah. Now I see."

"You see what?"

"Now I understand why Fritz left."

"You're takin' his side? I knew it!"

"Now, hold on a minute, B. I didn't say that. I just said I understand, meaning now I have a better picture of what's goin' on. What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know, Jim. I don't think I can be a mother. I'm just not cut out for it."

Jimmy sighed. "I think you're wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you are cut out to be a mother. I think maybe you don't want to be one, and that's fine, but I think you could be."

"I barely have my own life figured out!"

"No one has it figured out, B. And that's okay. You certainly ain't no Martha Stewart. Hell, you'd probably send in a box of Ding-Dongs for the kid's school bake sale!"

"If you're tryin' to make me feel better, you're doin' a terrible job."

"What I'm tryin' to say, is that that's not all there is to bein' a mother. You love hard, B. Between you and Fritz, there is no doubt in my mind that any child of yours would feel safe and loved. Can you imagine what would happen to any teacher or bully on the playground that gave your child a hard time? Whoowee! I wouldn't want to get in the way of a Brenda Leigh mama bear!"

Brenda chuckled at Jimmy's statement. It felt wonderful to laugh.

"Listen, it's your decision, and you know I'll always love you no matter what, but please think long and hard about this. You can't undo it, and I don't want you to have any regrets."

"Thank you, Jim. You always know what to say."

"You're welcome. Now I think you should put away the candy, turn off that trashy TV show you're watching, and take a shower. Then you need to do some thinking."

It was scary how well he knew her.

"B, you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm just lookin' for a hidden camera around here."

"No camera, I just know my baby sister. I love you, B. I'll call you in a few days, but I'm here if you need me in the meantime."

"Thanks, Jim. I love you, too. Bye."

After she hung up the phone, Brenda heeded her big brother's advice and cleaned up a bit, made her bed, and took a nice, long shower. She had to admit that it did make her feel a little better to be out of bed and doing something productive. Maybe she'd head to the grocery store in awhile and pick up some groceries. It would be nice to make herself a home cooked meal for dinner. She only wished Fritz was here to share it with her.

As she worked the leave-in conditioner and mousse through her wet curls, she heard her phone vibrate once, indicating she had received a text message. She rinsed off her hands, and went to the bedroom, thinking Jimmy had another witty, yet sage piece of advice to share with her. She picked up her phone from the bed and saw that it was not Jimmy, but Fritz who had texted her:

_Staying at Matt's for the weekend. Need time to think. We should talk Monday after work._

Monday. That gave her two whole days to figure out what she wanted to do about...everything. Jimmy was right. Like Fritz, she needed to spend the weekend thinking.

"Ok," she typed in, her hand shaking slightly.

As she went to hit the Send button, her fingers flew back to the keyboard, almost on their own volition. She wrote and sent before she could change her mind:

_I love you._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello, my dear, patient, and I hope still loyal readers. Here's another chapter for you all. I'm finding less and less time for writing, but I'm not giving up, and I hope you won't either. As always, I'd like to give a shout out to my formidable editor Miss Labyrinth, one of the best writers out there._

_I'd also like to give props to my sister fanfic writers ManateeMama, ProcrastinationQueen, and of course Labyrinth herself, who have all been putting out some great Brenda/Fritz stories lately. Make sure you give their latest works a read as well. And don't forget to leave us all some feedback. We all really appreciate it._

Ok, I'm finished rambling now. On with the story. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The sweat poured down Fritz's back, but he kept moving. His calf muscles were on fire, and his lungs were burning in a struggle to keep his body supplied with oxygen. He had to stop or he was going to collapse. At the next intersection, he halted and bent at the waist to catch his breath. What was wrong with him? He had only run five miles, but it had felt like a marathon. A quick glance at his watch told him why. He had just run five miles in only forty minutes. He hadn't run that fast since he was on the track team in high school. An almost fifty-year-old body wasn't meant to run that fast, at least not this almost fifty-year-old body.

Fritz still felt like a young guy in his thirties most of the time, but lately he'd been noticing some changes. It was harder to get up in the morning, for one thing. His back usually ached, especially if he fell asleep in a funny position. He was noticing more grey hairs, too, and although Brenda kept trying to convince him they made him look _distinguished_, they really just made him feel like an old man. Sometimes he would do a double-take when he passed a mirror, thinking it was his own father staring back at him.

Fritz had hoped that a run would help to clear his head and work off some of his anxiety about Brenda and the baby, but it didn't seem to be working out that way. Maybe he really was too old to become a father at this point in his life, he thought as he struggled to return his heart rate and breathing to normal. Spending an entire day with Matt and his family had certainly tired him out yesterday. He thought back to the last twenty-four hours as he slowly walked the last mile back to Matt's house.

At around eight yesterday morning, Fritz began to hear the sounds of little feet racing down the stairs and across the floor above him. He usually liked to sleep in on a Saturday, but he guessed that was not going to happen this weekend. After a half hour or so of hearing movement upstairs, he wandered up to see what was going on. Sheila was dishing out pancakes to Matt, the twins, and a teenage girl that he assumed was their daughter Allie.

They all welcomed Fritz warmly, except Allie, who was engrossed with her iPhone. He quickly learned that a Saturday at Matt's house was anything but relaxing.

"Molly, Ben, hurry up and finish your breakfast. We need to be at the field for warm-ups in a half-hour, and you still need to get into your soccer uniforms. Allie, you need to stop texting and eat something, too, or you'll never be ready to go."

"Aww, Mom," the teenage girl sighed in frustration, dropping her phone on the table and folding her arms across her chest. "Why do I have to go to their stupid soccer game? It's so early!"

"It's not stupid!" Ben cried. "Dad, Allie said the 's' word."

"And now you did, too," Matt replied, barely glancing up from his newspaper. "Allie, we're all going to Ben and Molly's soccer games, then we are going to stop somewhere for a quick lunch before we head over to your volleyball game. That is the plan."

"_That is the plan_," Allie parroted back, mocking her father. Before she could pick her phone up to go back to texting, her mother swooped in behind her and grabbed it first.

"You will not disrespect your father and me like that. I already talked to you about your attitude once this morning, and I'm not accustomed to saying those kinds of things twice."

A sense of déjà vu washed over Fritz as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. It was almost exactly like the one he had witnessed when Willie Rae had confiscated Charlie's phone at his and Brenda's dinner table two summers previously when the teenage girl had spent three weeks in LA with them.

Sheila continued, "And if you still would like to sleep over at Jenna's tonight and practice your driving tomorrow afternoon, I'd suggest you keep your opinions to yourself for the time being."

Allie didn't say another word, and she bent down so her hair fell in front of her face as she began furiously shoveling forkfuls of pancake into her mouth. Sheila motioned to the platter in the center of the table and glanced at Fritz, silently asking if he'd like some breakfast. He nodded and mouthed the words, "Thank you," not wanting to interrupt the moment of tension in the kitchen. It briefly brought back the frustration of dealing with a teenager that Fritz had felt during the brief time that Charlie and lived with Brenda and him. He had lost his temper with her more than once. Would he have the strength and patience to deal with a teenager fifteen years from now?

Out of the corner of his eye, Fritz spotted Molly leaning over to whisper something in her mother's ear. Sheila smiled. "He might have other plans, but you can ask him, Honey." She turned to Fritz, "Molly has something she'd like to ask you."

The little girl turned bright red and whispered, "You want to come to our soccer games, Mr. Fritz?"

Fritz smiled and turned to Matt, gauging his opinion. "It's up to you, Fritz. You're welcome to join us, you can stay here, or if you have other things that you need to do, I can take you to get your car."

Fritz turned to the little girl who was waiting for his response; in fact, all eyes at the table seemed to be on him. He was sure that he had had plans for the day at some point, but at this moment he couldn't remember any of them. The idea of sitting around an empty house all day alone with his thoughts didn't sound too thrilling either, so he made the only choice he could.

"I'd love to come, Molly," he replied with a smile. The little girl beamed.

* * *

Sometime while riding in the minivan that afternoon, Fritz texted Brenda to let her know where he was and that he'd like to get together and talk Monday after work. She texted back almost immediately, first with just the word _OK_, then surprisingly a few seconds later with the words _I love you_. Brenda had been getting better and better in the past few months at talking to Fritz and letting him know how much she loved him, and Fritz was overjoyed at this change. He had never really doubted Brenda's love for him, but it was nice to hear her say the words more often. After all that had happened between the two of them in the last twenty-four hours, his heart swelled at the notion that she could still say those words. His anger with her had not abated completely, but he knew that no matter what happened, he would always love her. He couldn't help himself. He texted back, _Me too_.

By dinner time, Fritz was beat, but Molly and Ben were still little bundles of energy. As he helped Sheila clear the dishes, he asked, "Don't they ever get tired?"

Sheila gave a small chuckle and replied, "Nope. They just keep going until they eventually pass out around 8:30 or 9. The trick is to get them ready for bed before that happens."

"Otherwise, we'll find them asleep on the couch, or even the floor and have to carry them up to bed," Matt added.

"That's brutal. They're not so little anymore and getting harder to carry. I barely have the energy to," she paused to gauge whether or not the kids were in earshot before she added in a whisper, "to drag my own ass into bed at night. Let alone two little ones."

Matt smiled. "You know I'd help you with your ass anytime, Honey. All you need to do is ask."

Sheila smacked her husband sharply with her dishtowel. "Save that for Sunday morning," she coyly responded as she sauntered out of the room.

"Sunday morning?" Fritz asked Matt quizzically.

Matt leaned in closer so that they would not be overheard. "That's the time we have scheduled weekly for sex."

"Besides the spontaneous times, right?" Fritz replied with a smile.

Matt began to laugh. "Spontaneous? I don't think Sheila and I have had spontaneous sex more than three times since the twins were born. Come to think of it, I think that's how we _got_ the twins in the first place." Matt became serious. "If we didn't schedule it, it wouldn't happen."

"So, once a week and that's it?" Fritz was floored. He and Brenda had sex two or three times per week at a minimum. Of course there were times when one of them was sick or working crazy hours, but that was the exception and not the rule. On the nights that they both got home from work at a reasonable hour, they would have dinner together, and then talk and relax for an hour or two, usually in front of the TV. Sometimes Brenda would watch with him, and sometimes she would bring case files into the living room and just sit by him, but either way they were spending time together. Later, they'd crawl into bed and hold each other. Most evenings this led to lovemaking, but not always. It was Fritz's favorite part of the day. He was hoping these pleasant evenings would occur with more frequency now that Brenda had a job with stable hours. He hadn't considered how the addition of a baby into their lives would affect the amount of time he had to spend with Brenda exclusively.

The events of the past twenty-four hours certainly gave Fritz pause as he went over them in his mind on his way down the last few blocks back to Matt's house. Yesterday had been the first time he had really spent an entire day with small children before. Brenda's nieces and nephews were all older, except for little Emmy Rose, but she was so quiet and calm all the time that she was no trouble at all. Not that Matt's kids were trouble; they were very well-behaved, actually, just constantly on the go. What would a child of his and Brenda's be like? Would he be chasing him 24/7? Would a little girl of theirs be constantly on the go like her mother?

Fritz smiled at the thought of a little girl that was the spitting image of his Brenda, with blonde curls and a big smile. His heart ached. He was so torn. Could he handle working all day and chasing a kid all night as a man in his fifties? Would Brenda resent him and their child for the rest of her life if he pressured her into having the baby?

Before he knew it, he had arrived at Matt's front door with more questions than answers.

* * *

_What kind of cereal did you want?_ Sharon Raydor texted her foster son Rusty. Standing in the breakfast aisle of the grocery store, she was going cross-eyed staring at all of the cereal selections and trying to remember what flavor of Cheerios he had requested last night. She glared at her phone, as if sending Rusty a telepathic message to answer quickly so she could get out of this store already. This place was a zoo. She hated coming here on Sundays.

When the third person of the morning ran into her cart with their own, she was about to look up from her phone to heed a warning of "Watch it!" when a familiar southern drawl reached her ears first.

"I'm so sorry…"

_No, it can't be_, she thought to herself. Looking up, Sharon was surprised to discover that it was indeed her former colleague Brenda Leigh Johnson whom she had literally run into. If she hadn't heard her speak, she might have walked right passed her. She seemed to have lost a few pounds off of her already slender frame, her hair was thrown into a messy bun, and she was dressed in a grey and pink tracksuit. The only other time Sharon had seen the blonde woman looking so casual was when she had had the unfortunate task of investigating Brenda's officer-involved shooting of Phillip Stroh in her own home.

Now Sharon had to do one of her least favorite things, make small talk. This morning was just getting better and better. She plastered a grin on her face and asked, "Chief, how are you?"

"I'm fine, just fine," Brenda replied quickly without making eye contact. "It's a lot different over at the DA's Office, but I'm settlin' in all right. How are things with you? Is Rusty doing all right? Stayin' out of trouble?" She inquired with a smile that didn't reach her red-rimmed eyes. Sharon thought that Brenda seemed eager to change the focus of the conversation from herself. The two women pushed their carts side-by-side to the end of the aisle, which had just recently cleared out.

"Well," Sharon said, rolling her eyes, wondering what Rusty was doing that was so important that he couldn't be bothered to answer her text, "you know kids."

Brenda's face became pale, and her hands began to shake. Sharon wondered what she had said to make her so upset.

"What I mean to say is that Rusty is doing really well. He just started over at St. Joseph's and he is making some friends."

"That's good to hear, Sharon. He's lucky to have you. I'm sure you're a great mother." Sharon was shocked to see Brenda's eye's fill with tears. What was going on?

Before Sharon could say anything, a young employee interrupted their conversation. "Would you ladies like to try a sample of our new Hazelnut Mocha Java Blend?"

Sharon thought, _Why not?_ And turned to see if Brenda was game. The look in her eyes said everything. The remaining color had drained from Brenda's face, and she moved to cover her mouth and bolted towards the restrooms, which were located by the customer service desk a few feet away.

The young sales girl looked forlorn. She had had customers politely decline her samples or outright ignore her before, but no one had ever run away in disgust.

"Was it something I said?" the girl asked Sharon.

"She's Mormon. They're not allowed to drink coffee. Excuse me," Sharon responded as she moved the two shopping carts aside, noticing that Brenda's only contained two items: saltine crackers and ginger ale. A light bulb went on in Sharon's head. Grabbing both of their purses, she made her way to the Ladies' room.

Once inside, she could hear Brenda being sick, but the other stalls seemed to be empty. Putting down the bags, Sharon waited quietly for her to come out.

If it was possible, Brenda looked even paler than before. As she exited the stall, she brought her hand to her chest as if frightened. "Sharon, you scared me to death! I didn't know you were in here."

She motioned to Brenda's bag. "You left your purse."

"Oh, I did, didn't I? Thank you so much," she added with a wan smile as she moved to wash her hands.

"How far along are you?" Sharon asked after a silent minute.

The wet, crumpled paper towels fell out of Brenda's hands. "What?"

Sharon crossed her arms, but offered a friendly smile. "With my daughter Madelyn, I couldn't stand the smell of garlic, and I'm Italian! With my son Brian, chicken made me sick. Luckily it only lasted a few months."

Sharon gave her a few minutes, but the usually cool and confident Brenda Leigh Johnson looked terrified and remained quiet.

"Look, I could be way off base, and I know it's none of my business, but I have a sinking suspicion that, like me, working in a male-dominated profession for most of you adult life has left you with a lack of girlfriends. I just thought you might need another woman to talk to." After giving her another minute to respond, she added, "Well, you know how to reach me if you want to talk." She turned to leave.

"Five weeks," Brenda whispered so softly that Sharon wasn't even sure she had heard correctly, until she turned around and took in the terrified look on Brenda's face.

"Have you told Fritz yet?" she inquired gently.

Brenda's eyes filled with tears, and she started to cry. If felt both strange and perfectly right for Sharon to offer her a hug and rub her back as she started to sob.

"It's going to be okay, Chief," she murmured. The sounds coming out of Brenda changed slightly, as her tears turned to laughter. Sharon pulled away to see what was going on with her former colleague.

"For heaven's sake, call me Brenda. It's not like we work together anymore, and you're wearin' my snot and tears on your shoulder here," Brenda added with a smile as she used a paper towel in an attempt to clean off Sharon's sleeve.

"So, I'm guessing this wasn't a planned pregnancy?"

Brenda snorted. "You can say that again." She became serious. "Fritz always wanted kids; I didn't. Now here we are. He wants to have the baby and he found out I am considering abortion. We fought about it, and he packed a bag and left." Her eyes filled with tears once more.

"Oh, Brenda." Sharon breathed. She recognized the look of fear Brenda wore, and it took her back almost forty years. Her palms began to sweat and her stomach clenched at the memory. She wasn't sure that she should share it with Brenda. They weren't really even friends, but something about seeing her in such a vulnerable state struck a chord in Sharon, and words poured out of her, "I'm going to tell you something that I've only told one other person in my life. When I was 21 I had an abortion ."

Brenda was unable to hide the look of shock that passed over her tear-streaked face. "Tell me," she said softly, extending her hand. Reluctantly, afraid any contact would weaken her resolve to tell this story void of the emotion that saturated the initial event, Sharon took it.

"It was fall of my senior year at Notre Dame," she began in a soft voice, "and my best friend Meg convinced me to go to a party with her. I never went to parties, if you can imagine that. I had a little too much to drink and ended up sleeping with one of the guys there. I don't even remember his name—Jack or John something. Anyway, I felt awful about it later, but he wore a condom, so I thought everything would be okay, and I could just forget about the whole thing. Then I started getting sick to my stomach a few weeks later, and I missed my period. I took a test and it was positive."

It was like tearing open an old wound for Sharon, but she pressed on before she lost her courage. "I knew it was a awful time in my life to have a child. I was just finishing up my degree. I didn't even know the baby's father's name. I couldn't tell my parents or anyone at school. I grew up Catholic. I was taught that I'd go to hell if I had an abortion, but I knew having a baby by myself so young would have been a whole different kind of hell.

"I was in a dark place, and I didn't know where to turn. Luckily my friend Meg knew something was wrong with me, and she wouldn't leave me alone until I told her. She took me to the clinic and stuck by me the whole day afterward. I'll never forget that."

Brenda squeezed Sharon's hand. "You were lucky to have such a good friend. What happened after that?"

"I finished my degree and graduated," Sharon said with a shrug as she broke contact with Brenda and slightly turned away. Turning back to face her, she added, "I don't want to tell you that I never thought, 'what if,' because I have on occasion. But I always come to the conclusion that I made the best decision that I could have at that time, and I don't regret it." Sharon took a deep breath. She still couldn't believe that she's shared something so personal with Brenda, but looking at her former superior's face, she knew that she'd made the right decision.

"Oh, Sharon, thank you so much for sharin' that with me. I just know that havin' a baby is not the right thing for Fritz and me. I mean, we'd be in our 50s with a kindergartener. People would probably think we were his grandparents, for heaven's sake! And my new job just started. I mean, I'm finally able to give my husband the attention that he deserves. Can't he see that a baby would ruin everythin'? If it even ended up bein' born. Did you know there's like a 40% chance of birth defects or..."

"Brenda, Brenda," Sharon cut in, trying to stop her rambling. She suddenly realized that she was not done sharing. "I know you've had a terrible year, and you have a lot to consider already. I'm sure your head is just spinning with scenarios. The last thing you need is more to think about, but I'd like to tell you another story now, from a mother's perspective, if that's okay."

Brenda slowly nodded. Sharon hoped that what she was about to tell Brenda would help her and not make her feel worse about the situation.

"When I was 30, I fell head-over-heels in love with a lawyer named Joe Raydor. I didn't have much of a social life then. After graduation, I dove headfirst into my career, and that didn't leave time for much else. I put in extra hours, trying to show that I was just as committed as the men that I worked with, and then I would go home to an empty apartment every evening. I never went out or had any kind of social life until I met Joe. He taught me to loosen up and have fun. Part of that fun included lots of drinking, but I didn't see it as an issue until we got married. Every night he would come home from the office and have a beer, then another, then another until he passed out. It wasn't really a big deal when it was just the two of us. He was a very functional drunk, I mean. He hardly ever missed work, and no one thought he had a problem with alcohol.

"Soon after I turned 35, we had Maddie, and then Brian came along right before I turned 40." Sharon paused for a moment as the warm memory of holding her newborn babies in her arms for the first time washed over her. Hoping to give Brenda a little reassurance, she added, "So, I wasn't that young when I had my kids either, and that was 20 years ago. Today, and especially in California, people are waiting longer and longer to have kids, many are 40 before they even start trying, so don't worry about people thinking you're too old."

Brenda said nothing, so she continued, "Now, I'm not going to lie to you, Brenda, being a mother is hard. It's the hardest job I've ever had, and that includes investigating you at the LAPD." That got a smile from Brenda.

"I was basically a single parent. Joe was never abusive or anything, just absent. He would try to help out on occasion, but he would lose patience or get distracted. I was the one who got the kids up in the morning, fed them breakfast, got them to school, fed them dinner, and put them to bed at night. And this was on top of working 50 hours a week or more in IA. I was exhausted all the time. I can still remember the looks that I would get from the male members of my squad." Sharon seethed at the memory. "It's hard enough getting respect as a female officer, but when I would get called in the middle of the night to go to a crime scene and would have to leave for maybe 90 minutes at the most to run home and get the kids ready for school, you'd think I skipped out to get my nails done or something. I'd return to sneers or whispered comments like, 'that's why women shouldn't be cops,' and I'd just want to punch them all in the face."

She shook her head. Just thinking about it brought back such rage, but she needed to let it go for the time being. "Anyway, I just thanked God every day for Mrs. Franklin, my next door neighbor at the time. She would get my kids off the bus and watch them every afternoon until I got home. She even let them stay with her when they were sick, and I couldn't get off work. She was an angel. I don't know what I would have done without her. I was a mess all the time; sleep-deprived, overworked, running from one place to another with no help from my drunk of a husband. I had to be strong for my kids, let them know they were loved. I had to be strong at work, too; I refused to let my male coworkers see me vulnerable. But when I was alone in my car, or late at night after everyone was asleep, I would just cry. I cried for what a mess my life was. Mostly, I was probably just exhausted, but you know what, Brenda?"

"What?" she answered, hanging on Sharon's every word.

"I wouldn't trade being a mother for anything in the world. Not then and not now."

Brenda's brow furrowed in confusion. "But, you just got done telling me how horrible things were."

"Yes, I did. Being a mother is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but nothing has made me happier either."

Sharon noticed the brow lines deepening on Brenda's forehead and added, "Let me explain if I can. I told you how I would sometimes cry at night. Well, what I didn't tell you is what I'd do after that. I would go to my daughter's or to my son's bedroom and just stare at them sleeping. I'd look into their little faces and see parts of me and the man I fell in love with. I'd see the little person that I carried for nine months, and all my worries seemed to fade away. Sometimes I'd even climb into bed beside them and hold them, and they'd wrap their arms around me, and I'd finally be able to sleep. You see, having children has given me two things that are essential to have in police work."

"What's that?" Brenda asked.

"The first is perspective. When you're working on a case, sometimes it can be all-consuming and you can forget about everything else that's going on in the world. It's the only thing on your mind. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Brenda nodded her head sheepishly and replied, "I think so."

"Well, when you have kids at home, they couldn't care less about the case you're working on. They're just happy to see you from the moment you walk through the door. I remember coming home in the evening and my daughter would start talking a mile a minute about her day, and my son would want to show me his latest reading test or drawing. Having children showed me that there is more to life than crime and protocols and policies. My kids helped me to put work on the back-burner and focus on the present." Sharon smiled at the memory. Her kids were in their twenties now, but she could still picture a pigtailed Maddie rambling on about her friend Abigail's new bike or her classroom hamster running loose in the hallway. And little Brian with his missing two front teeth holding up his latest masterpiece that he'd created with crayons. She'd walk through the door after questioning fellow officers and staring at corpses all day, and the site of her two children was the most beautiful thing in the world to her.

"What's the second thing?" Brenda asked, shaking Sharon out of her momentary daydream.

"Oh, sorry. It's hope. Having children helps to remind you that there is good in the world, not just death and violence. Sometimes when you're working on a case, especially a more brutal one, you can just get swallowed up in darkness. It can make you cold, and you can start to expect the worst in everyone you meet. But, sometimes after just a few minutes with my kids, playing a board game or pushing them on the swings at the park, I would start to think about all the good things in my life, and in the world, and it would fill me with such a sense of hope."

Sharon expected this last bit of information to at least put a smile on Brenda's face, as it did hers, but instead Brenda looked almost surprised. Confused, Sharon asked, "What is it, Brenda?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly, shaking her head, "It's just that Fritz said almost the exact same thing to me a few years ago when he was trying to convince me to try for a baby. He said that I'm great at imaginin' the worst, and it's fine for my job, but he asked me to try and imagine somethin' better. I didn't really understand him then, but I think I do now..."

Sharon jumped as the shrill ringing of her cell phone broke the sense of peace that had settled over the two of them. She glanced at the display. "I'm sorry; it's Rusty," she looked panicked as she answered, "Rusty, what's wrong?"

"Sharon, where did you go for groceries, Las Vegas?"

He was so loud that Brenda couldn't help overhearing and moved her hand to stifle her laughter. Sharon rolled her eyes. He continued, "I'm starving and there's nothing to eat in this house!"

"Rusty, listen, I'll be home in 15 minutes. Have an apple." She hung up before he could respond. "I'm sorry, Brenda, but I have to go. Are you going to be all right?"

Brenda nodded. "I think so. Thank you so much. I still don't know what I'm gonna do, but you were right, it really did help talkin' to another woman."

Sharon wasn't sure whether to hug Brenda again or to simply leave, so she patted her shoulder instead. "You have my number, right?"

"Yes."

"Call anytime, or just stop over. I'm here whatever you decide, and all of our conversations will just remain between us, okay?"

"Thank you," she replied as Sharon squeezed her shoulder and then let go, moved by the sincerity in Brenda's voice. She left the restroom and went in search of her cart, pondering how much her relationship with Brenda Leigh Johnson had changed in such a short time.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hey everyone, remember me? I know it's been awhile, and I sincerely apologize, but I've just had a lot going on recently. I want to say that my life has settled down somewhat, but I guess one never knows. I hope that there are people still interested in this story. I really appreciated those of you who sent reviews patiently asking if I was going to continue. I only wish you would sign into your account to review so that I could PM you and reassure that I'm working on it or to thank you for your kind words. Just some food for thought._

_Anyway, just to refresh your memory, when we last left our lovely couple, they were spending a few days apart trying to sort out what they wanted to do about the pregnancy. Fritz spent the weekend with his sponsor Matt and his family and certainly got an education on what it's like to be an older father. Brenda had an interesting trip to the grocery store where she had an unexpected but helpful heart-to heart with her former colleague Sharon Raydor._

_I hope you're happy with how this chapter turns out. I expect you will be. As always, reviews are appreciated. FYI, I am able to view stats for my stories, so I know there are about 20 of you following this one. I suppose that means that you like it. Please take the time to drop me a line or two and let me know what you think. I would so appreciate it. Thank you!_

**Chapter 7**

It was amazing what Brenda could cook when she took her time and carefully followed a recipe. Tired of being along with only her thoughts to keep her company, she had first cleaned everything in sight. She was surprised more than anyone that she had been reduced to do so. It must be that "nesting" thing that people are always talking about. After the apartment sparkled, she needed another task to distract her, so she began to leaf through one of her mother's old cookbooks that she had brought back from Atlanta. She took it for its sentimental value more than anything else. She never imagined she'd actually cook something from it

She was in the mood for comfort food. After finding a fairly simple recipe for chicken pot pie, she headed to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients, plus some other essentials, like ice cream and ginger ale, the latter of which she had found to be the perfect antidote to her nausea.

No one was more surprised than Brenda when she had ended up spilling her guts to Sharon Raydor in the grocery store's Ladies' room, but she had to admit that it felt good to talk to another woman. Every day she missed her Mama, but this past week she had been thinking of her more than ever. She knew that she would never have been able to share her pregnancy with her unless she ultimately decided to keep the baby, but she wished she could at least call her up and hear her voice. Of course, Willie Rae would have known something was wrong with Brenda: she always knew. Brenda wouldn't have been surprised if her mother had been able to guess Brenda' condition from over the phone! Imagining the look of joy that would have been on Willie Rae's face if she were to find out that she was going to be a grandmother again brought tears to Brenda's eyes. She swiped them away as she finished setting her kitchen table for one. She really should call Atlanta and check on her Daddy, but the idea of doing so exhausted her. Having to pretend to be happy about her life and her new job for her father's sake would require energy that she just couldn't muster right now.

The ding of the oven's timer jolted her out of her thoughts, and she reached to silence it and put on her oven mitts. She took a deep breath, not knowing what she'd find inside, but she was pleasantly surprised to discover that her dinner almost looked exactly like the picture, and it smelled wonderful, too. She wondered if her mother could see her now from wherever she was. Brenda hadn't put much stock in organized religion ever since she was old enough to form her own opinion on the matter, but she wasn't sure if she could completely deny the existence of some sort of higher power. She honestly didn't think about it much, but she had to admit that it was comforting to imagine that her mother was still around somewhere, possibly watching over her. She put down the pie plate and wiped away more tears. They weren't kidding about these pregnancy hormones. She really was turning into a sap.

After letting the casserole cool for several minutes, she sat down to scoop herself out a serving. She took a bite and was surprised again—it wasn't half bad. It was pretty good, actually. She took a few more bites, and Joel jumped up into her lap. She usually didn't let him sit with her while she was eating at the table, but she decided to make an exception tonight. Fritz always paid him more attention than she did anyway, and the poor cat was probably starved for affection. He might be literally starving as well, she thought. When had she last fed him? She glanced at his bowl and saw that it was empty. She couldn't even take care of a stupid cat, for heaven's sake! How could she ever care for a child?

She picked up Joel and gave him a snuggle and a kiss as she walked to the pantry to get some cat food. "I'm sorry, my Joely," she cooed as she filled his bowl and put him down. He lapped up the meal immediately. Brenda returned to the table, and before she knew it, half of the chicken pot pie was gone. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she started eating.

As she got up to take her dishes to the sink and began filling it with soap and water, a strange noise caught her attention. It sounded like the door bell, but she wasn't sure, because she heard it so infrequently. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was almost nine o'clock.

Her first thought was, _Where is my gun?_ Then she remembered that she had turned in her gun when she had left her job at the LAPD, and she hadn't gotten around to purchasing a new one yet. Her second thought was, _Why am I so worried? A criminal wouldn't ring the bell, would they?_ She grabbed the biggest knife she owned from the drawer beside her and slowly made her way over to the front door to glance through the peep hole.

Her breath caught at the familiar face on the other side of the door. It was Fritz. _What is he doing here? _she thought. They had agreed to talk tomorrow night, hadn't they? She wasn't ready yet to talk to him yet, but God he looked handsome. It amazed her how she could forget just how good he looked in only two short days. She opened the door slowly. It felt so strange to be letting him in this way, like a guest. Taking in his restless appearance—he was shifting from one leg to another, jingling his keys, and avoiding her eyes—she could tell that the situation was uncomfortable for him as well.

"What are you doin' here?" Brenda asked softly.

"You aren't going to stab me, are you?" he motioned to the knife. Brenda looked down, having forgotten she was even holding it. She would have thought that he was actually concerned for his own safety if she hadn't detected the faintest hint of a smile cross his lips.

"Sorry, I didn't know who would be ringin' the bell this late. Come to think of it, why did you ring the bell? You have a key."

"I didn't want to scare you, but I guess I did anyway. I need a suit for work tomorrow. I didn't think to pack one. Do you mind if I…" His voice trailed off as he nodded in the direction of their bedroom and locked eyes with her for the first time since he had arrived. Both of them were silent for a moment.

"Oh, no, no, sorry. C-come in," Brenda stuttered, attempting to break the tension. She opened the door wider so he could step through, and then closed it behind him. Putting the knife down on the kitchen table, she followed him into the bedroom and nervously fiddled with the zipper on her sweatshirt. Should she say something? His visit had caught her completely off guard. She had been expecting another 24 hours to gather her thoughts.

Fritz worked quickly to gather what he needed. "I'm sorry, Brenda. I'll only be a few minutes. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't have anything that I could wear to work tomorrow, and I—"

Brenda put up a hand to stop his rambling. "It's okay, Fritz. Take all the time you need. I'll be in the kitchen," she said, and quickly made her escape down the hall.

She grabbed the knife from the table and tossed it into the sink full of soapy water along with her silverware, cup, and plate. She forced her shaking hands into the sink and began to wash the dishes as her mind wandered.

She hoped that she had seemed calm and in-control to Fritz, because inside she was a blubbering mess. Watching him pack his things to leave and having to awkwardly let him in the house this evening was too much. The memory of finally throwing her first husband Hart out of the house and telling him she wanted a divorce came unbidden to her mind. At that time, she had felt relief at seeing him pack. With Fritz, she felt like her heart was breaking in two. She couldn't go through another divorce, not like this. The first had almost killed her, and she'd wanted it. She'd do almost anything to keep Fritz in her life. Almost.

She rinsed the glass and put it in the drain board to dry. When she reached her hands back into the sink, she felt the large, sharp knife slice the tip of her finger, and she screamed.

When Fritz heard Brenda's cry, he dropped the two ties he had been debating between and ran to the kitchen.

"Brenda, what hap—" but as soon as he saw the blood running down her hand, he immediately sprung into action. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her hand, and pulled her to himself, sitting them both on a kitchen chair.

He could hear her rapid breathing and could feel her racing heart, and he knew that he needed to calm her down. "It's all right, Honey. Just breathe."

She heeded his advice and took some deep, cleansing breaths. Eventually her heart rate slowed to a more normal pace. Having Fritz's arms around her certainly helped the situation. Something about his touch always brought her a sense of peace. He had only been gone for two days, but it felt like so much longer. Sometimes it scared her how much she needed him. She couldn't imagine her life without him in it.

Slowly he sat her on another chair across from him so he could examine her hand. He gently pulled the towel away, not wanting to open any clot that may have started to form over the cut. It was located on the tip of her right index finger. Although it was only about an inch in length, it was deep and would probably not heal properly without sutures.

"I think you may need a few stitches, Honey. We should get going to the ER."

Brenda tensed upon hearing his words, pulled her hand slowly out of his grasp, and began to rewrap it. "You don't have to take me, Fritz," she stated, her having taken on an icy tone.

Fritz made an impatient noise. "Who's going to take you, Brenda? You're in no condition to drive. Do you want to call Gabriel and have him come all the way over here at this time of night? Don't be ridiculous. I'm here. Let me take you."

"I'm not ridiculous. I just don't need you to take care of me all the time. I can take care of myself!" She started to cry. Fritz wanted so badly to hold her, but he knew that wasn't what she would want right now. He moved closer to her cautiously, but still kept his distance.

"I know that, Brenda. I know you can take care of yourself. But I want to help you. Please let me."

Brenda looked up into Fritz's eyes. She didn't know what it was about their deep, chocolate hue, but somehow looking into them made her feel like he could really see her, right down to her soul like no one else in the world could. She knew he was right. She could do without him if she had to. She was strong enough. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted Fritz in her life, even if that meant letting him take care of her every once in awhile.

"Okay, Fritzy," she relented, sighing heavily. "Take me to the hospital."

* * *

Brenda and Fritz were quiet as they drove to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Once they arrived, they sat in the waiting room for almost an hour before they were taken back to an examination room. During this time, Brenda stole glances at an impatient Fritz, whose right leg kept shaking nervously. At one point, he was ready to whip out his FBI badge and demand that Brenda be seen, but she quietly held him back. It was sweet, she thought, how fiercely protective he could be. That was one way that they were alike. Jimmy was right. No one would dare mess with any child of theirs. That put a smile on her face, and Fritz noticed.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a note of irritation in his voice. It was clear to Brenda he found nothing amusing about the situation.

She shook her head and looked down at her lap, not ready to tell Fritz about her conversation with Jimmy. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all."

After a nurse put them in an exam room and got Brenda's history and other medical information, it was yet another hour before Brenda was seen by a doctor. Fritz paced around the small, curtained cubicle-like room like a caged animal. He kept looking at his watch and glancing out into the hall to see what was taking so long. Brenda was surprisingly calm. The soreness in her finger had abated somewhat. Not that it had been terribly painful to begin with. It was not as bad as being zapped in the back with a cattle prod, for example, so she didn't mind having to wait. And getting to spend time with a Fritz did exactly bother her either, but his impatience was beginning to irritate her.

"Sit down for heaven's sake!" she finally cried in exasperation. "Can't you just stay still?"

"I'm sorry, Brenda, but this is ridiculous. You shouldn't have to wait this long."

"I told you that you didn't have to come. You're the one who insisted."

"You're right, Brenda," he conceded as he took his seat. "I'm sorry."

"There are probably gunshot and stabbin' victims out there, people having heart attacks. I can wait, Fritz. Why don't you sit here and talk to me?"

Fritz apprehensively asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

Brenda hesitated. This was not the time or the place for their BIG conversation. "Tell me about Matt, your sponsor, and his family."

"Ok..." he began. Fritz quickly became animated as he described Matt's family to Brenda and gave her a play-by-play of the weekend, leaving out only his intimate conversations with his sponsor.

"You should have seen these little kids playing soccer, Brenda. It was hilarious. Some of them have shirts on so big, they look like they're wearing dresses. And they've got all the equipment, shin guards and cleats. They're all kicking each other, and when one of them scores a goal, you'd think it was the World Cup or something. The parents and the kids just go nuts. That Molly is a tiny little thing, and so quiet, but she just zooms in and out of the other kids. They don't even see her coming."

Brenda listened intently. She couldn't imagine having four kids. She wasn't even sure that she could handle one! But she saw how Fritz's face lit up when talking about Matt's kids, and she loved seeing him so happy. She had to admit, it did sound pretty amusing to hear it described, and she wished she'd been there with him to witness it firsthand.

Fritz cut his story short when the doctor finally came in to examine Brenda's hand. He explained that he would have to clean and debride the wound, which he warned would be painful. Fritz held Brenda's hand as she took deep breaths and turned away. Before long it was over, and the doctor explained that he would be giving her a shot of Lidocaine to numb the area before he began suturing.

"Wait!" Brenda halted the doctor who had the syringe an inch from her hand, about to administer the medication. He and Fritz jumped at Brenda's sudden outburst.

"Sorry to startle y'all," she apologized before whispering. "Is this okay, ya know, for the baby?" She remembered that pregnant women had to be careful with medications, but it surprised even Brenda herself that this information had popped into her head so suddenly at just the right time.

"Baby?" the doctor asked. "Are you pregnant?"

Brenda nodded slowly.

The doctor smiled. "Don't worry, this is just a local anesthetic to numb the area. It won't harm the baby." He paused for a second. "Are we all right to proceed then?"

"Yes," Brenda replied. "I promise no more interruptin' you when you have sharp objects in your hand."

"Good," he said with a smile.

Before long, Brenda and Fritz were receiving discharge instructions on keeping the stitches dry and watching out for signs of infection. Brenda was told that she could only take Tylenol for pain due to her pregnancy, and she and Fritz thanked the staff and headed for home.

It was almost midnight, and Brenda hadn't realized how tired she was until just then. She was barely able to stay awake on the ride home. Fritz had to walk her to bed and practically tuck her in. Usually Brenda would have balked at his attempts to fawn all over her, but not tonight. In her exhausted state, the physical pain of her injury and the emotional pain of the past few days made her feel raw, and having Fritz there was a balm to her wounds. She couldn't bear the thought of him leaving again, even if they were planning on seeing each other tomorrow night. But, what would he say if she asked him to stay? It would break her heart if he refused.

"Brenda?" Fritz asked tentatively, his voice surprising her.

"Hmm?"

"With it being so late, would it be all right with you if I just crashed on the couch instead of driving back to Matt's? I wouldn't want to wake his whole family."

Inwardly, Brenda sighed with relief that he had been the one to bring it up and not her.

"No," she answered.

"No? Come on, Brenda, I'm tired too and I just want to—"

She silenced him with her hand. "No, Fritz, I don't want you to sleep on the couch. I want you to stay with me tonight." She motioned to his side of the bed, to her left. "Please?" she pleaded. She didn't like to be vulnerable, to beg, but she couldn't help herself.

Fritz saw the need in her eyes, and he felt it, too. Without hesitating for a second, he pulled off his pants and sweater and curled up with his chest against her back, spooning her. Careful to avoid her bandaged hand, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her hair. This was what he needed. This felt so right. They still had to discuss the baby, yes, but for now they both knew they needed one another. No matter what they decided, they would do it together.

* * *

The next morning, Brenda awakened to two strong sensations. The first was a warmth along her back and across her middle. It was the feel of her beautiful husband's arms wrapped around her. For just a moment, she didn't care whether she had a baby or not. As long as she had this wonderful man beside her, she knew she'd be fine.

The second sensation was a throbbing in her finger. The cut was certainly tender. How would she get through work today with just one hand, she thought as she began to gently untangle herself from Fritz while trying not to wake him. A more pressing issue was figuring out how was she supposed to shower without getting her hand wet. This was going to be a challenge. She tiptoed to the kitchen and tried to rig up something with a plastic bag and tape, but it was not going well. After loudly slamming her good hand on the counter for a second time out of frustration, a deep voice behind her rasped, "What the hell is going on in here?"

She turned around to see Fritz looking at her curiously and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She felt embarrassed that Fritz caught her making a mess of what should have been a simple task. "I'm just tryin' to cover my hand here, so it doesn't get wet in the shower, but it's not workin' out so well." She held up her plastic bag-covered hand, which was decorated with random pieces of tape stuck here and there. She tried to create a seal at her wrist so water wouldn't leak into the bag and get the bandage wet, but because she was having difficulty pulling the tape at the right angle so the tape dispenser's sharp edge could cut it, the bag hung loosely over her hand, unsecured. Brenda pouted, and Fritz stepped toward her with a sympathetic smile.

"Brenda, why don't you just stay home today? You're not going to be very useful with one hand anyway."

"I can't do that, Fritz. I just started a week ago, and I already called in sick Thursday and left for a few hours on, well, ya know," she trailed off, not wanting to relive their conversation from Friday right now.

"You called in sick on Thursday?" Fritz asked, surprised. He hadn't remembered her ever calling in sick, except once in DC after her break-up with Pope.

Brenda nodded, hoping he'd drop it for now. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was getting late. She needed to start getting ready. She glanced back at the tape.

Wordlessly, Fritz gently took Brenda's hand and walked her to the bathroom. There he found some surgical tape with the first-aid supplies, as well as a rubber glove, and fashioned her a pretty good cover for her bandaged hand.

"There," he said. "You'd better get into the shower now, so you're not late."

Brenda looked up and into the eyes of the kindest, gentlest man she'd ever known, then she turned away. How could she choose between staying with Fritz and doing something that terrified her, or being alone for the rest of her life? With her back to him, she began to undress in silence, but she didn't hear him leave. When she finished, she turned to see him staring at her. She took a step toward him, aching for him to touch her. Slowly he inched his hand forward and she closed her eyes. She felt his strong fingers gently caress her stomach and her eyes flew open in surprise. She back away quickly, and jumped into the shower, slamming the door behind her. He didn't care about her, she thought. All he cared about was the baby. She turned on the shower and wept.

* * *

Fritz walked to the kitchen and made toast and tea for Brenda. He remembered last winter when she had caught a bad cold, she had enjoyed her mother's favorite peppermint tea, and he thought her body would probably tolerate it better than coffee right now.

Fritz had never been so unsure of where he stood with Brenda as he was at this very moment. Last night he could have sworn that they'd made some kind of peace and were growing close again. She'd leaned on him at the hospital and seemed intrigued by his stories about his weekend with Matt's family. It had just about floored him when she had asked him to share their bed last evening, although he did not object at all to the suggestion. Then this morning he had helped her cover her bandaged hand so she could shower, but then she had violently pulled away at his touch in the bathroom. Brenda was the most beautiful woman Fritz had ever seen, and he couldn't help himself. He needed to touch her. His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, though. He hadn't meant to go right for her stomach, it had just sort of happened. Fritz had been in awe of Brenda's body since the first time he had laid eyes on her, and he was curious and fascinated by the changes it was going through currently. Obviously they were subtle. He mostly noticed it in her breasts, but just the thought of what was going inside brought a sense of awe to Fritz, and his hand had been attracted to her gorgeous stomach like a magnet. As soon as he did, her expression changed so drastically, and he could hear her crying in the shower, but he wasn't sure why. Was she still unsure about the baby or was she using their situation as an excuse pull away from him? They really needed to talk, but he was scared at what she might say. He honestly wasn't sure what they would decide, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn't want to lose her. Not now, and not ever.

* * *

Brenda was too exhausted after showering with one hand to attempt to do anything with her hair, so she just smoothed some pomade on it and pulled it back into a loose ponytail. After quickly dressing, putting on a bit of make-up and grabbing her bag, she hoped to make a quick exit. In the kitchen, she was surprised to find toast and, not coffee, but... she sniffed the mug. It was her mother's peppermint tea. Her eyes filled with tears at the memory of her Mama and the thought of the sweet man who tried to take care of her. No, she thought as she wiped her tears and searched the cabinet for a travel mug. He only cared about the baby and getting her to eat so it would stay healthy. She poured the tea into her cup and put on the lid. She grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers and threw them in her bag. Fritz spun around from his spot at the sink when he heard the cabinet door slam.

"Brenda, aren't you going to eat something?" he asked.

"I'm late, Fritz. I need to go. Thank you for the tea." She headed for the door, but he gently stopped her with his hand.

"Brenda, I will be here when you get home," he spoke softly. "We are going to talk tonight, okay?"

She inaudibly mumbled a reply.

"What?" he asked.

She looked up. "Okay, I said. Can I go to work now?" she asked coolly. Fritz took a step back so she could walk out the door and shut it in his face. He leaned against it and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Brenda went through the motions at the DA's office, her mind unable to focus on anything but Fritz and the pregnancy. Could she survive his leaving her again if she decided to end her pregnancy? Could she survive motherhood if she didn't? Would Fritz watch her like a hawk to see what she was eating or if she was getting enough rest? Several times throughout the day, her assistant, whose name she could never remember, caught her staring off into space. After the third time it happened, Brenda could have sworn she'd seen her roll her eyes. It was very subtle, but Brenda had spent years studying the body language of murder suspects, and she knew an eye roll when she saw one. What she must think of me, Brenda thought. I've been acting like a nutcase since I started working here!

Fritz was no better at the LAPD. Luckily it was a slow day and he was able to spend most of it shut up in his office catching up on paperwork. He felt like Brenda was pulling away from him and he didn't know how to get her back. Even after all that he had discussed with Matt, he still wanted to be a father. He realized it would be difficult at his age, but he really wanted to try. But he worried: would Brenda resent the child if she felt forced to have it? Would she resent him? Would he leave her if she didn't continue the pregnancy? In his heart he knew the answer. Now he just needed to summon the courage to share it with her.

* * *

Fritz hoped that he would arrive home first. If he hadn't seen her car in the driveway, he would have thought that he had. The apartment was dark and quiet when he opened the door. He flipped on the overhead light, put down his keys and gun, and looked for signs of Brenda. Joel scurried across his feet and into the bedroom, as if showing him the way. She was so still on the bed, he thought she was asleep at first, but she quickly turned toward him as he approached. Her red-rimmed eyes were wide open, her pupils dilated from both the darkness and fear. It broke his heart to see her so upset. He knelt on the floor beside her.

"Honey, why are you crying? We haven't even talked yet. We haven't decided anything."

"I'm cryin' cause I know what you're gonna say. And I don't want to hear it, Fritzy."

"How do you know—"

She put her hand up to quiet him. "Please, Fritz, can we just not talk for a minute? I need to, I just..." Her words choked in her throat.

"What, Brenda? What is it?" He coaxed, fighting the urge to stroke her hair. He needed to know what she was feeling.

Since words failed her, she spoke with her actions instead. She leaned in, hoping against hope that Fritz would not pull away from her, and she kissed him deeply. She swallowed another sob and kissed him again. His soft lips tasted like heaven, but she needed more. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and moved to loosen his tie. Once or twice, she bumped her still sore finger, but she barely noticed. She needed him so badly that her body physically ached. If he refused, it would destroy her. She needed to make love to him one more time before everything changed. This might be her last chance.

For a split-second, Fritz considered pulling away and demanding that they talk, but he was so desperate for connection. He needed to know that she still loved him, so he gave in. He kicked off his shoes and moved to hover over her on the bed, helping her to remove his shirt and tie. She ran her fingers over his chest as he unbuckled his belt and pants and tossed them aside. Reverently, he removed her clothing, pausing to kiss her in between movements.

When there were no other barriers separating them, they slowed for a few minutes. Fritz hesitated as he reached to caress her breasts. His eyes sought hers in a silent question. He knew she had been sore, and he didn't want to hurt her. She softly nodded, and he touched her so gently it sent shivers down her spine. When he finally moved to join them as one, she immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him and held tight. He was still for a moment. She loved that he did that for her. He began to move slowly, and she felt waves of pleasure, but her legs ached from holding him so tightly. She was afraid—afraid if she let go that she'd lose him forever.

"Brenda?" he called, breaking the silence. She looked into his eyes. "Honey, I can't breathe."

She felt terrible and loosened her arms slightly, but refused to let go completely. When he finished, and they both had their release, he shifted his weight to move off of her, but she held him tight.

"Wait, Fritzy, not yet, please," she pleaded. He collapsed onto her chest, but instead of feeling crushed by his weight, she felt comforted. When he could no longer maintain their connection, he rolled slightly to lay beside her, and she moved with him, clinging to his chest.

He felt a dampness where her head lay, and looked down to notice her tears had started again. "Brenda, honey, why are you crying? What is going on?"

"I don't know if I can do it," she mumbled.

"Do what?" he asked, forcing her chin up with his finger so she'd look him in the eyes. "Tell me."

"Lose you, have a baby. I can't do either."

"What makes you think you're going to lose me?"

She swallowed. "If I don't have the baby, you'll leave me, and I can't live without you, Fritzy. I just can't, and..."

"Hey, hey, hey," he stopped her rambling and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Listen to me, Brenda. I love you. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left like I did, but I was so angry when I found those papers in your office, and I thought you might have an abortion without telling me about it. I just needed to think. And I realized something while I was away. I realized that although I want to be a father very badly, I want to be your husband more. I won't leave you. No matter what happens, I'm not leaving, Brenda. I just love you too damn much." He smiled as he leaned in to kiss her gently.

"Now it's my turn to listen, Brenda. Tell me what you're feeling. Tell me everything."

And she did. Brenda shared her fears with Fritz about the risks to her health and whether she'd make a good mother. She told him what Dr. Dioli said at her appointment. Then she told him of her conversations with Jimmy and Sharon Raydor, and how they made her feel differently, like maybe she could do it, be a mother. But probably not, she reasoned. She just wasn't sure.

At first it was difficult, like tearing open a wound. It was painful to share some of these fears with Fritz, but then she'd look into his eyes for a second, and she felt safe. She knew in heart that she could tell Fritz anything, and she wondered why it had taken her so long to do so.

Fritz listened intently to all that Brenda had to say. He didn't say a word, but just held her and nodded when appropriate. He needed to let her get it all out, and she did. A few times she would stop and stare at the ceiling, as if gathering her strength, but then she would continue. After she had outlined every fear and scenario possible, she became quiet.

"Brenda, can I say something?" She nodded. "It sounds to me like you're not sure what you want. Am I right?" She nodded again. "And this has nothing to do with me. You know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

"Yes," she answered tentatively.

"Ok, then I'm going to make a suggestion. Why don't we make an appointment with Dr. Dioli and see what our options are? We can talk about the pregnancy and testing for the baby to see if there are any issues, and we'll go from there. Does that sound good?"

Brenda took a deep breath. "Okay, Fritzy."

"And no one has to know anything yet. It's still early and we haven't made any decisions, okay?" Brenda nodded, looking away again. Fritz turned her head back toward himself. "Brenda, look at me. You are not alone in this, okay? I'm here no matter what. I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together. All right?"

* * *

She nodded and lay her head back on Fritz's chest. "I love you, Fritzy. I love you so much."

The next few weeks were a whirlwind for Brenda and Fritz. They made an appointment with Dr. Dioli and she laid everything out for them. She shared the risks, but also told of the countless healthy babies that she'd delivered to women over forty during her 20-plus years as an OB/GYN.

They scheduled an early ultrasound and everything looked fine. Unfortunately they had to wait until the baby developed a bit more before they could run more sophisticated tests. In the meantime, Brenda's finger healed and the stitches were removed. Right before Halloween, Brenda was ten weeks along and a second ultrasound was performed, where a strong heartbeat was detected. In mid-November, prenatal screenings and tests were performed, and Brenda and Fritz were called into Dr. Dioli's office a few days later to hear the results.

Brenda had her phone out and was fiddling with it, but Fritz was a nervous wreck. This test was going to determine whether he became a father or not, and it all he could think about. What was worse was how calm Brenda seemed, like she didn't have a care in the world. He knew what she was doing. It was classic Brenda. She was pretending she didn't care so she wouldn't have to deal with the emotions involved. It drove Fritz crazy, but he knew he was never going to change her.

"Hey, Fritzy, do you think we should try that new Italian place, Carmino's, tonight? It's gotten great reviews," she asked with a smile.

It was a good thing Dr. Dioli entered just then, because Fritz was about to say something he probably would have regretted later. They both raised their eyes to meet hers. Fritz tried to search them, to get a hint of what was coming. Before he could, the doctor began, "I'm going to make this quick. All the tests were normal. You're carrying a healthy baby. Now, I know you're still not sure what you're going to do, but my recommendation is that you make a decision in the next week or two. Okay?"

Brenda and Fritz nodded. "All right, then. Let me know what you decide." She left the room quickly. Fritz looked at Brenda, but he couldn't read her expression.

"Brenda?" She looked up at him. "What are you thinking, honey?"

"I'm thinkin'," she began as her eyes scanned the room, "that this is where you asked me to marry you. Right here in this office." She smiled and moved her other hand to clasp his as she continued. "I'm thinkin' that it's kinda funny, but this place is very special to the two of us. And I'm thinkin' that this is the perfect place to tell you that if you promise that we're in this together, 100%, that I'm willing to have this baby."

Fritz beamed for a second, but then became serious. "Are you sure, Brenda, I mean, really? Are you sure that this is what you want?"

"I'm sure that I love you. And I'm sure that I'm scared out of my mind. But I'm also sure that there is no way that I could not love a baby that is part Fritz Howard."

He squeezed her hand. "So, we're doing this? We're having a baby?"

Brenda nodded. "We're doin' it."

He leaned in to kiss her. "I love you. And not just because you're having my baby. Because you're you."

"Me too, Fritzy."

They stood up to gather their things. At the door, Fritz held it open as Brenda walked through. "So does that mean that we can tell your family next week when we're out there for Thanksgiving?" he asked.

Brenda looked at him like a deer in headlights.


End file.
